Al Batt, Tales from Exit 22

My car’s steering wheel melted in the hot sun.

It was so hot, I burned my lips on an iced tea.

I searched for a parking place in the shade.

My neighbor Crandall told me that he’s not worried about global warming. He just bought a new air conditioner. His old air conditioner was a wood burning unit. When I asked him what people did before there were air conditioners, he replied that they died of the heat.

I have air conditioning in my car and in my house. It’s cool. It’s chilling to consider that while I was growing up, we didn’t have air conditioning. We had shade. Trees, lofty and leafy, cast sun shadows over the farmhouse.

I recall many days of working in the sun, doing tasks like baling hay so that the cows would have an ample supply of food. There were few delights to match jumping from a hayrack and sopping up some shade.

Schools didn’t have air conditioning. Neither did the churches. In homes, we were fans of fans. We would hang wet towels in front of a whirling fan. We washed our faces in cold water. Shady deals involved umbrellas. We thought of cold things. To many folks, sitting in an air-conditioned environment was considered an extravagance — not a good use of a person’s time. Guilt would kick in when we were cooled by things other than lemonade or a dip in a pond. Despite the lack of cooling equipment, we never felt deprived. We lived the life we were given. I still have a natural instinct to find shade instead of air conditioning.

My father helped keep us cool by hiding the thermometer.

I was working as a volunteer at a fundraising function some years ago. One fellow that was chowing down like a champion — my mother would have called him a good eater — was unhappy with the temperature in the building. He asked that the air conditioning be turned up because he was too hot. Not long after that, he asked that the air be turned down because he was too cold. This went on, back and forth, the entire time he devoured copious quantities of food. I walked back and forth to the thermostat many times. When he left, I bid him a fond farewell. Another diner complimented me on my patience and added that I was kind in my numerous adjusting of the air.

“No problem,” I said with a smile. “This place doesn’t have an air conditioner.”

The news from Hartland

The denizens of the Greater Hartland area depend upon Hartland Harold to tell us what is going on. Here are the latest headlines according to Hartland Harold.

Sign on the door of Mary Melody’s Music Store reads, “I’m no Beethoven, I’m no Brahms, but I’ll be Bach at one.”

Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe accused of killing cats.

Offshore drilling begins in sewage ponds.

Third-grader at New Richland-Hartland-Ellendale-Geneva-Bath-Otisco-Matawan-Summit-Cooleyville-Berlin-Hope-Trenton-Lemond-Hollandale-Clarks Grove-Vista-Lerdal-Freeborn-Manchester-Beaver Lake-St. Olaf Schools sets new record for solving the Rubik’s cube. Spray-painting the cube all one color helped.

Ye Older Than Dirt Optical Shoppe holds sale on glass frames that come complete with fake noses and moustaches.

More than 200 miners are out of work in Hartland due to the fact that Hartland has no mines.

Ask Al

The customers of this column ask terrific questions. I provide answers that are not always wrong.

“What do you do for a living?” I’m not sure what it is that I do, but if I don’t do it, it doesn’t get done.

“Why am I able to hear the ocean when I hold a seashell to my ear?” It’s because it’s an iShell.

“Do you work at your church’s soup and pie supper?” I do. I have a hand in the soup.

“What do you say when you can’t answer a question?” I say, “That was a stupid question.”

“Why doesn’t my Venus fly trap catch any flies?” Because it catches only Venus flies.

“When did you attend high school?” I went from 8:30 in the morning until 4:00 in the afternoon.

You might be getting older if …

You are greeted by a high school buddy at Walmart.

You have discovered the reason why the Roman numeral for 40 is XL.

You remember when sneakers were the cheapest shoes you could buy.

You remember when razors had only one blade.

Your drinking buddies are the guys who drink coffee with you.

You have stopped complaining that you have nothing to do.

You remember closing off rooms in the house for the winter.

You liked things they way they were.

Hartland resident Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Sunday.