I walk from my house to the train and from the train station downtown to my office. Three plus miles a day. It’s fine in the summer and shoulder seasons but the winter is something else. I do not like the cold. But the cold doesn’t really bother me. Unless there’s wind. . . .
Up until about ten years ago, my threshold temperature was 42 degrees. Over 42 degrees and – if I was wearing a suit or sport coat – I would wear no overcoat or trenchcoat. Under 42 degrees, I wore a trenchcoat. One winter, I went all the way through wearing nothing but a trenchcoat. Wait a sec – let me rephrase that. I wore a trenchcoat AND a suit, shirt, belt, tie, socks, shoes and my Jockey Juniors. These days, as age inches upward, my threshold temperature is more like 50 degrees. Or more. Even when it’s over 50 degress, I sometimes bundle up like Admiral Byrd. When it hits 80 degrees, I’m just ducky. I still don’t like the cold but it’s not bothering me less and less. . . .
One thought on “42 Degrees”
your great great uncle walter larson was 84 when he left this world and he never owned a winter coat he told me it was the viking blood that ran thru his danish veins that kept him warm he just wore a sports coat long johns under his pants and shirt and a top hat to cover his head you will do just fine in the coming years scott best cousin peter