A Cool Reaction to El Nino

This appeared Jan. 7, 2006

Here’s a story that appeared on Friday.

“LONDON (AP) -- Deepening drought in Australia. Stronger typhoons in Asia. Floods in Latin America. British climate scientists predict that a resurgent El Niño climate trend combined with higher levels of greenhouse gases could touch off a fresh round of ecological disasters -- and make 2007 the world's hottest year on record.”

The writer might have added – “Increasing frustration in West Chester.”

It has been more than a year since I urged the politicians who are supposed to be watching out for their constituents to take action and build a public recreation pool in the borough.

Preferably in a shaded location. Preferably with an air conditioned clubhouse. Preferably within walking distance of my home. Despite the eminent reason of my recommendation, to date I have heard nothing.

There are public and private construction projects springing up on seemingly every street corner of West Chester, yet no pool. There are courthouses being built, and banks, and office buildings with fine dining restaurants that have, um, not actually appeared yet, but nothing that says, “Come on in. The water’s fine.”

Wasn’t the whole Democratic takeover thing supposed to bring a new sense of urgency over the needs of the average American public? I’m not sure what new Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi thinks she’s supposed to be doing in her First 100 Days, but I suggest she start accepting bids on an in-ground swimming facility somewhere in the vicinity of South Church and Dean streets, 19382. Speaking for myself, we don’t need a hike in the minimum wage; we need a deep end with a diving board.

I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I’m obsessed with the heat. I spend countless hours in the summer trying to get the maximum cool out of a collection of air conditioners and floor fans and open windows. Last July, during one particularly intense period of sweltering, I tramped over to the 7-Eleven and bought two 16-pound bags of ice.

“Planning a nice backyard barbeque?” the overly cheerful checkout clerk inquired, smilingly.

“No, I’m planning to dump these babies into my bathtub and fill it up with the coldest water available, and then I’m going to sit in it until my body looks like a blue prune,” I snarled.

“Have a nice day!” she said, not missing a beat.

It used to be worse. I used to live on the third floor of my building, and the southern exposure and the flat tin roof would combine to heat the place up like a microwave. And I, not content on just feeling hot, would put indoor/outdoor thermometers in strategic locations throughout the apartment. That way, I could factually verify that while it was only 89 degrees outside, it was a searing 97 degree indoors. At 12:30 a.m.

All of this fixation would end in a matter of minutes if I could simply stroll down the block to a nice pool, shaded, with a comfortable air conditioned clubhouse, and a deep end for diving, and a 15-minute “adults only” period, during which the British climate scientists and I could talk about El Nino. Cooly.