LITTLE ROCK — Here, presented as an annual public service, are 50 ways to stay warm during these wintry days—and nights.
This year, public service (and private, too) was particularly valuable after a Christmas storm painted Arkansas white overnight. Bless all who pulled us through that storm and its aftermath, working through the frigid days—and nights—when Arkansas had suddenly turned Arctic.
Longjohns.
Popcorn. Or parched peanuts. Pretend you’re at a ball game on a sultry summer night in the spring, under the lights, complete with hot dogs. The home team is behind 3 to 2 in the bottom of the ninth, two out and two men on. The beer is sudsy, the peanuts hot, the oldfashioned organist who’s been doing this for 40 years is adding to the suspense. Think of Fenway and the fellowship of singing “Sweet Caroline” during the eighth inning. Dream of Dickey-Stephens in North Little Rock, or Arvest in Springdale, or any small ballfield in Arkansas—professional, semi-pro, amateur, college, high school or Little League, and remember golden summers when there was no question about the identity of our national pastime . . . 3. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Courtesy of Nat King Cole. 4. Fireplaces in general. (Get that back log just right.) Get you some fatwood to get ’er started. Go ahead, use the poker. Enjoy the inevitable, heated argument over how to arrange the logs, kindling and accouterments. Warm your hands in front of the fire. My late mother-in-law once told me that there are three things every man believes he can do better than any other man; the other two are how to drive and how to build a fire.
Bathroom gas heaters. Never take them out when you remodel, no matter how unfashionable they’ve become. You’ll be glad you didn’t come these freezing mornings. 6. Warm thoughts of those you love. Heated thoughts about those you don’t. 7. Enjoy the snow when it comes again. Build a snowman. Maybe a whole snow family. 8. Pillow fights. (Recommended for all ages. Relieves aggression.) 9. A mother’s hug. (Good in any season.) 10. Feed a cold, starve a fever. Or is it the other way ’round? I can never remember. Never mind. Food is comfort. So is folklore. 11. Egg nog. 12. Soup. Piping hot. Chicken soup with rice, or maybe vegetable-with-beef. The thicker the better. Also recommended: lentil, tomato or tortilla. Don’t forget the shredded cheese on top of the tomato. 13. A game of checkers. Chess only when played with a time limit; slow moves freeze the joints.
A no-holds-barred, fines-go-to-those-wholand-on-No-Parking, double-rent-on-Boardwalkand-Park-Place, house-moving, property-stealing, joint-monopolies-permitted, rent-dodging cutthroat game of Monopoly. With lots of shouting and muttering, idle threats, and general skullduggery. Loans from the bank and other players encouraged, and small thefts allowed when nobody’s looking. All weapons checked at the door.
Old movies set in tropical climes, in which the men wear pith helmets and the women sarongs, with Dorothy Lamour always so cool and George Brent always mopping his brow. Start with Bette Davis and Herbert Marshall in The Letter. Avoid Dr. Zhivago and Nanook of the North. Save those for August in Arkansas.
Novels that cover three or four generations. Or try Douglas Southall Freeman’s unabridged, four-volume biography of Robert E. Lee. It’ll last you all winter. Or Walker Percy’s essays, collected some time ago in Sign Posts in a Strange Land. Then there’s Anna Karenina. She never fails to enchant. Or Gone With the Wind even if you know how it comes out. (We lost.) Anthony Powell’s A Dance to the Music of Time. In 12 volumes, it could get you through the longest winter. Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall may be the best cold-weather read of all time. Wrap up and nod off sometime during his description of the customs and mores of the Germanic tribes on the Roman Empire’s evershrinking borders. Gibbon’s history tends to run on as long as the Roman empire did, but his English is a joy.
Write a hot letter to the editor. I probably need to be told off. 18. Save a winter weather report to read at the height of summer. It’ll sound delightful. 19. Chop wood. (Particularly good for working out emotional problems, and much cheaper than psychoanalysis.) Second choice: a punching bag. 20. Hot lemonade. 21. Exercise—indoors. 22. Chinese food, Szechwan variety. Go for the red stars on the menu. 23. Five-alarm chili. Easy on the Fritos, lettuce and cheese; heavy on the meat, sauce and chili peppers. There are those who put the Fritos on top and those who, inexplicably, put ’em on the bottom. These two types invariably marry one another. The way slobs and neatness freaks do. Always the twain meet. 24. For goodness sake, don’t drive when it’s icy. We’d like you to still be with us come next winter. 25. A parka. One that also makes a good blanket. Mine, made by North Face, dates back to 1983, and once saw me through a trip on the Trans-Siberian railroad. 26. Nightcaps. Both varieties. 27. Try the sauna. 28. Rock ’n’ roll. 29. Square dancing. 30. Ravel’s Boléro. If you can stand it one more time. Someone—it may have been Ravel himself—once described Boléro as magnificent but not music. 31. Some foot-stompin’, kneeslappin’ country fiddlin’. 32. See South Pacific. Or check out Elizabeth Taylor and the late great Paul Newman in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Or maybe Kathleen Turner and William Hurt in Body Heat. Or any movie set in New Orleans. Pay a visit to Nick and Nora Charles, aka Myrna Loy and William Powell of the Thin Man movies. Curl up with Asta and sleep tight.
A goosedown comforter.
Dixieland jazz, not the cool kind. Think Louis Armstrong, not Dave Brubeck.
Exercise the mind; turn off the teevee. (Which is a good idea any time of the year.)
Think of the Internal Revenue Service. Or Obamacare. Or congressional earmarks, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, the Fiscal Ciff and Solyndra. That’ll get you steamed up. Or consider Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid and John Boehner. Or academics who rewrite Mark Twain so we’ll be spared his politically incorrect words. If those topics don’t get your ire up, nothing can.
See if you can still do 100 push-ups. Breaks for hot tea and general resuscitation allowed. 38. Sweaters. Galoshes. Gloves. Layers in general. Lots of ’em. With plenty of air pockets in between for insulation. Everything your mother told you to wear and then some. 39. Hot chocolate. Double the usual number of marshmallows. 40. Which reminds me: toasted marshmallows. Not to mention S’mores. 41. Piping hot oatmeal. 42. Grits. Or pancakes just off the griddle. With lots of butter and maple syrup. 43. Cuddle. 44. Hot cider. 45. Tea. Hot, of course. Very. Or black coffee with a soupcon of bourbon. Irish coffee, but for goodness’ sake forget the whipped cream. It gets in the way of the whiskey. 46. Scarves. Woolen ones with a fringe. 47. Balaclavas, not to be confused with baklavah—which wouldn’t hurt, either. 48. Footsie pajamas. 49. Bring the pets indoors. Make it a threedog night. 50. Watch Animal Crackers. It may not make you any warmer, but the Marx Brothers will make you feel better.
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Paul Greenberg, editorial page editor of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, updates his list of winter survival tips every year. He suggests reading this one with a hot chocolate in hand.
Editorial, Pages 14 on 01/16/2013