DEEP FREEZE - Segment 2 (Scroll down for opening segment)


      To combat the deep freeze, I sought the advice of a friend, Flynn Willie, who had experience in cold weather survival training.  “You’ll never survive the deep freeze in this old farmhouse without ‘mind over matter,’” he said bluntly.  “Remember how your baseball coach would tell you a broken leg was all in your mind, even if it were pointing in three different directions?” he asked.

     “How could I forget?” I answered, resting on a crutch.

     “Well, cold is the same.  It’s a state of mind.”

     “What about toes that fall off?” I asked.  “Is that a state of mind?” 

     “Absolutely,” he answered. 

     In case he was wrong, I got a box to keep my toes in until they could be re-attached during the spring thaw.  It was beginning to look like a long winter. 

     As the deep freeze intensified, we confronted it with “mind over matter.”  We discovered that doesn’t work when matter is frozen.   

     Every morning we did penance by walking across frozen floors.  “Just once, I would love hot coals,” said my wife.

     I was glad we had a large woodstove that our family could huddle around to stay warm.   I was sad when it developed a crack and had to be replaced by a new E.P.A.-approved woodstove.      

     Our new “pollution solution” woodstove eliminated all the smoke coming out our chimney.  Now it was coming out the back of the stove.  I covered my nose and mouth with a handkerchief while I donned my goggles with fog lights so I could find the stove and put out the fire. 

     After a few adjustments, I started another fire.  The smoke stayed in the stove.  But I wondered where it was going now.  Then I went outside.  Oh! There it is, coming out our chimney.  I figured it must be cleaner now since no pollutants had transformed me into a charcoal figurine. 

     Our new woodstove would have fit nicely inside our old woodstove.  Now we would have to take turns huddling by the fire. There was barely enough room for the cat.  Fortunately, our cat had left for the winter.  The rest of us fought for thawing space.   

     One morning, after scraping enough frost off the inside of the windows to make a small snowman, Connie said, “I’m tired of the cold.”  I could sense from her comment that she was tired of the cold. 

     “Why can’t we have a new home?” she pleaded.

     “Where would we put the snowman?  I asked.  “Anyway, what would I write about; that we’re relaxing in our lovely new home, kicking back in a lounge chair, reading a book by the fire?” 

     “I could write it” she answered.

 

 

To be continued...check back soon