Winter Guilt

I’m well versed in the intricacies of Jewish Guilt. It’s the questionable gift that keeps on giving and giving, over and over again. When I was in my middle ages , I was still apologizing for something I blurted out to my father when I was five years old. Now that’s  long distance guilt.

Since moving to Durango, I’ve experienced a new kind of guilt. I’ve named it winter guilt. It goes something like this. 

“Jeff. Why don’t you spend more time in Durango during the winter?”

“I’ve never liked winter.Its not my season. I’d rather be in warmer, snow-free places.”

Then the suggestions begin. 

“You’re an active guy. Maybe you need to take up a winter sport. Have you tried downhill skiing?” 

“Yep. Tore my ACL back in 78, the first and last time I went. Thats the reason why I walk so funny.”

“How about snow shoeing?”

“You mean snow trudging?”

“Ever try cross country skiing?”

“Yeah, people stopped inviting me when I’d say, “I’m cold. Can we please go home now? “ (Especially when I announced this when the vehicles were still in sight.)

When this approach isn’t working, they’ll try another tact. “Jeff. It’s important to embrace all seasons.” 

“No it’s not. That’s like asking Guantanamo Bay detainees to embrace water boarding.” (Maybe that’s over embellishing. But only just a tad.)

Eventually I’ll lean into my inquisitor and trigger the avalanche. “Honestly, i don’t even like the look of snow. It’s white and boring.”

On occasion, I’ve had lovers of the dark and cold season tell me I should seek counseling. (Thankfully, they never mentioned electroshock therapy.) If avoidance of winter were a neurosis, there’d be a lot less Snowbirds and many more Shrinks in AZ, FL, CA and TX. I’m not alone on this. It just seems that way in Durango.

After returning home from ten weeks of winter avoidance, the frosty season was still lingering. My neighborhood hiking trails were under snow and ice. Nighttime lows were in the single digits. It didn’t take  long for me to catch a cold and deal with an arthritic knee. Worst of all my hard earned tan was beginning to fade. 

All these were minor physical afflictions  compared to the return of my old nemesis. Feeling lonely and depressed. On one particular blustery, chilly gray flannel day, I spent my time inside alternating between eating  ice cream and sucking on my thumb. Mental malaise was settling in. A no bueno moment.

As usual, I went on the attack. Straight to the Weather.com website. Hmmm! There’s a warm weather window opening in a few days at Canyonlands National Park. I packed, did some meal preparations and faster than you can say, “Winter storm warning” I was joyfully ensconced at Squaw Flats campground for a multi-night stay. So what if I had to leave Durango at 5 am. I scored! 

Folks. There’s never been a period in my life where I felt any other way about what I call the “season of death.”

(The EPA concurs : https://www.epa.gov/climate-indicators/climate-change-indicators-cold-related-deaths )

It’s a part of my DNA makeup as much as being undersized and owning hazel colored eyes. It’s who I am. I can’t change it anymore than ones sexual preferences or gender affiliation. As the cliche goes, it is what it is. 

So Durangoans, if you don’t lay winter guilt on me, I promise not to lay Jewish Guilt on you. Trust me, you’re getting the better end of this deal. 

All these lovely snow free photos were taken from nearby Canyonlands National Park.

This is why I moved to Durango. Location, location, location.

Stay warm and come on summer!

Jeff

Last photo: As usual I purchased another piece of Real Estate. One day there will be a Sambur Towers on Fifth Avenue, NYC. I’m looking for investors.