The Cold

When you live in the northern half of the United States freezing temperatures are simply a fact of life.

A week ago a friend of mine summed up living in Wisconsin–“It ain’t upper Canada, but it’s not Maui either.”

Which is true, Wisconsin is neither Canada nor Maui and could never be mistaken for either. Well, maybe Canada, but once a person tried to go to a hospital I think they’d figure it out.

I grew up in Northeast Iowa, and lived in Minnesota for a while, so cold midwest winters aren’t really anything new, but they are to some people.

A few weeks ago for example Floridians were scrambling and preparing for temperatures that were *gasp* in the 30’s. From what I can see of folks around here, the 30’s are when it’s time to break out the spring wardrobe and start wearing cutoffs.

I’ve been wondering for a while what exactly causes this phenomenon. Are those of the southern climates smarter, dumber or just less tough than those of southern inclination. Actually, I really don’t think it’s any of those.

For years now I’ve harbored the idea that cold is really just a state of mind. Over the last two months I’ve decided that that state is Wisconsin.

It seems like not a day goes by when someone doesn’t ask me the rhetorical, “Cold enough for yah?”

If there was an answer I’d probably say yes. But lately I’ve been wondering what “cold enough” really means.

If it means that I can set fruit juice outside for two hours to make popsicles then yes.

Then again, it might mean it’s cold enough to keep my beer cold, which it isn’t. Leave beer outside in the Wisconsin winter too long and it will explode on you.

Which is really a shame since Wisconsin is also known for its beer consumption prowess. By gallon we consume more beer than any other state. Per capita we’re being beaten by New Hampshire, but that is a measurement of alcohol consumption, not specifically beer.

If Wisconsin were just a bit warmer just think of what taverns could save in refrigeration. If this were any other state they might have to worry about someone taking the beer they left outside.

Of course, the better angels of human nature tend to retreat when facing the demons of free booze; it’s a conundrum.

Speaking of angels, that’s another thing I like about Wisconsin, the churches.

While I’ve admitted before that I’m not really a church-going kind of guy, that doesn’t stop me from feeling reassured when travelling the less paved roads when I see a country church every 10 miles or so.

Also, there are bars about every 10 miles. It’s like God is really watching out for everyone, no matter what they thirst for.

What else is there to Wisconsin? Well I shouldn’t have to tell anyone about the state they live in, but there is some pretty good fishing too.

To me fishing is kind of like being in church and a bar at the same time. You get a lot of time to reflect on your life in a beautiful environment, but no one minds if you’re drinking a beer while you’re at it.

Growing up, one of my mother’s friends, a Badger State native, used to refer to Wisconsin as “God’s country” and now that I live here I’m sort of inclined to agree with her.

Of course, some days I think “Favre country” would be more accurate. I’m fairly sure that if I told people that the Packer’s number four was the second coming of Christ at least half of them would believe me.

I wonder if there’s any money in preaching? It’s a shame he’s got more of a bullet pass than a hail mary arm, that would make it easier.

It’s not the worst idea I’ve had this week. I think I’m going to call it the “First Church of Favre.” Then again maybe the “Number 4 Church of Favre” would be more appropriate.