Every year, when March comes, my spirits rise. I know that the hated cold of winter is coming to an end. Soon the warmth I so yearn for will be with me again. The first day of Spring was Saturday, March 20. Happy days are here again.
But March delights in playing games with me. Less than a week ago, it was warm enough that I ate lunch out on my deck, but later in the week it was below freezing at night. It hasn’t been warm enough to spend time out there since.
Granted, I like warm weather more than most Americans. For thirteen years, I spent more time in the tropical monsoon climate of Vietnam than I did in the U.S. Like the GIs I was working with, both Marine and army, I regularly wore shorts and no shirt. I stayed tan year round. During my brief returns to the U.S., I found the weather disagreeably cool in the summer and downright cruel in winter.
After the fall of Saigon in April 1975 when I returned more or less permanently to the U.S., I never reacclimated to the cooler weather. To this day, I stay bundled up most of the year. The only times I’m comfortable are those when I can go shirtless, usually in July and August.
So here I am, again in March, frustrated by a promise of warmth that keeps getting pushed further into the future. The old saying is that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. So come on, lamb. Stop titillating and fulfill your promise.