Heat domes, air conditioning and the human condition

The heat, coupled with the oppressive humidity—that is what makes Southern stories great. This sultry, summertime climate slows the pace of life, and it gives you time to think clearly and carefully, making it ideal for storytellers as well.

Or so thought William Faulkner. The famed novelist believed the temperature affected his characters, and the way he penned their stories, so much that he refused to have air conditioning installed in his Mississippi home. Sweating is good for humans and is key to learning how to endure this thing called life.

Ironically, Faulkner wasn’t cold in the grave, pun very much intended, before his wife had a window unit brought up from the nearest department store. In fact, she made the purchase just one day after his funeral. He would roll over in the ground if he knew his prized estate, Rowan Oak, is now a perfectly climate-controlled museum and Southern writing research center.

How, pray tell, can you properly study Southern writing without sweating through your shirt? Maybe that’s why a good writer is hard to find these days. Keep your thoughts about my talents, or lack thereof, to yourself, please …

It’s been so hot lately around the world that even Europeans are buying AC units faster than Faulkner’s overheated widow. Wearing black is also not good for trying to stay cool.

The danger of overheating is well documented and too many people fall ill, or even die, each year because they fail to heed their body’s warning signs. There’s something to be said about being able to survive in the summer elements. It’s easy to spot the person who is used to sitting at a desk in an air-conditioned room versus someone who works outside for a living. The former typically starts whining as the first bead of sweat forms on their forehead, while the latter is fond of saying things like, “Hot enough for ya?”

I’ve been on both sides of that conversation, and strangely enough when I worked outside, I longed for comfort that comes with mental work, and when I’ve been chained to a desk, I yearn for the integrity that couples with earning a dollar with your sweat. Unlike Faulkner, I’ve never combined the two and tried to write something while sweating my tail off. But neither paper nor computers hold up well in moisture.

The eastern United States is currently nestled underneath a heat dome, an atmospheric phenomenon where high pressure traps warm air, therefore making temperatures feel hotter than they are. At any given moment it can feel like triple digits, or hot enough to bake cookies on the sidewalk or write the next great Southern novel.

If risking heat stroke is what it takes to fully understand being alive, I think I’ll stick to what I am now.  It’s worth noting that Faulkner, aside from a derision of making his wife happy, had a serious drinking problem. It is hard to be hot when you’re passed out.

Stay cool out there.