Sometimes summer is cruel

Sometimes Summer is cruel.

That is ultimately the fundamental lesson here. As children sweat, families turn up the AC, and the dehydrated lie unclaimed under the blistering sun that once was a blanket of snow.

Sometimes the rains fall and will not stop. Sometimes the skies turn barren and will not rain. Sometimes the water rises and smacks the side of the pool like a fist. Sometimes the wind isn’t present making the heat unbearable. And sometimes, the land splits into cracks because it is so dry.

Sometimes, Summer is cruel. And always, when it is, we do the same thing. We go in our basement where it is cooler. We play cards and board games, we rehydrate and replenish, we rebuild our willingness to be out in the heat. And we go outside. This is the price of having seasons. And also, arguably, the noblest expression.

Sometimes,  Summer is cruel, and you have no choice but to accept that as part of the bargain called seasons. And when it is your turn to deal with it, you turn the thermostat down to 70 degrees.

But what if it's always 90 degrees?

Surely some hot, sweat streaked person can be understood for thinking it is always 90, just hours after the hottest nation in the Western Hemisphere saw its thermometers smashed by the mercury because it went off the scale. Surely, everyone from Alaska watching from afar experiencing frigid temperatures and frost bite from their dogsleds and snowboards, are reminded how nice they have it.

Bad enough, sports must go on. Bad enough there is a history of heat strokes and heart attacks, of being ignored by those people living in cooler nations that don’t have to go through this horrid season. Bad enough, all that, yet at the end of the day, those are disasters authored by heat, exhaustion, dehydration.

Sometimes, though, you have to wonder if the sun itself is not conspiring against this humble nation.