Modern Conveniences

This phrase always makes me smile. Apparently it's been used down through history for the newest invention to make life easier, no matter how primitive it sounds to us. I have a history with The Little House On The Prairie books, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I've read the entire series four times--once with each daughter, and then again before a trip to Kansas where I visited the site of the Little House. In The Hard Winter, when the blizzard snows have blocked the supply trains from getting through for months, the settlers ran out of almost everything. Ma commented that when she was a girl they always had light, even without the modern convenience of kerosene lamps. She created a light with a bit of fat on a saucer and a thick thread in it that absorbed the grease and burned, providing a flame. Back to the topic. I'm grateful for my car that gives me the freedom to go nearly anywhere I want. I'm grateful for my computer, when it's not giving me a hard time, enabling me to stay in touch with people far and wide and provide an endless amount of information. But the thing I'm most grateful for is air conditioning. I've always been sensitive to heat, except when I was a kid and could run around in a wet bathing suit. I adored school, but I remember in first grade crying at lunchtime that I didn't want to go back for the afternoon because the room was so hot. Once in geometry class in high school, we were all complaining about the heat. The teacher, who was the tennis coach, asked how many of us had air conditioning at home. Nearly everyone raised their hands. He shook his head in amazement. He said that a/c was a luxury he didn't expect to ever afford and that his idea of a great day was to play tennis in 95 degrees. For this reason alone, I was sure he was from another planet. I find excessive heat oppressive, not to mention its companion in crime, humidity. I've never had the opportunity to live in a relatively dry area, but I'm in touch with people all over the country and everyone seems to be suffering. We've been soaked with excessive heat and humidity for weeks at a time. I've been caught in several places that have run their a/c at ridiculous levels--if I'm cold, you can assume 98% of the other shoppers are frosting over. It's because the a/c isn't working properly, taking the moisture out of the air, and they are trying to cover it up. I was in a megastore yesterday where this was going on. At first it felt good to get into the store after crossing the parking lot. I set off picking up the items on my list and suddenly realized I was wet. Wet hair, damp shirt, trickles of sweat everywhere. Then came the unpleasant sensation that someone had poured glue over me. Perspiration from heat is wet. Perspiration from humidity is thick and sticky. It's gross. When I'm at my most miserable, I think about Ma Ingalls: long-sleeve dress, probably a collar, long skirt with a minimum of two petticoats for basic modesty, and a corset, for goodness sake. Ma is taking care of her family, cooking over an open fire that has to be kept going all day (no microwaves, no take out), washing the dishes and the clothes, cleaning the house, gardening--all those labor intensive basics of life. No fan. No ice. No trees--they're on the prairie. I can't imagine how she survived. It doesn't matter to me that she was used to it. It had to be brutal. So I'm oh-so-grateful for my air conditioning. And the fridge and freezer. And the microwave. And take out. And ... you name it!