Last night when I went to bed I was told by only the most trustworthy of Pittsburgh weathermen, and a very friendly Giant Eagle cashier that we were going to have an ice storm. And not just any ice storm, in the words of my Giant Eagle friend, “It’s going to be a big ol’ storm. Gonna be icy. Yeah, icy boy.”
Even if I have learned to at times doubt the competence of TV weathermen, the level of his assuredness from the cashier was convincing enough for me. With the excitement of an eighth grader, thoughts panicked through my brain: What if I get stuck without a car for a couple of days? I love snow days! I will need provisions.
I did not hesitate. I went straight to the beer distributer, and $18.40 something later I had a 30 pack of miller highlife light (only the champagne of beers). I was ready for the incoming inclement weather.
I woke up, and walked out onto the porch ready to see the wintery carnage. It felt warm (37 degrees according to my iphone) and everything was wet. Not frozen at all, just wet. Cars drove freely and bikes cruised with carelessness.
Damned expectation! My hopes overthrown again by nature’s whim.
Walking up the hill to the cemetery gate I can feel grumpiness growing on my travel. Noticing the puddles forming in the uneven sidewalk I am getting pissed. I explode one underneath my feet, and want to yell at the liquid, “You were supposed to be ice! I wanted to slide and slip while walking to the cemetery! You were supposed to me fun!” I don’t yell at the puddle, but I do exhale in disapproval.
In the cemetery everything is dripping: the fence posts, the branches, the mausoleums, the stones, the brim of my hat, everything. My bitterness over the lack of wintery conditions is still prevailing in my thought. I do not care that everything looks to be crying. My observation is simply that, everything but my lacrimal glands are dripping in this place.
The lacrimal glands are where our tears are formed. I know this because the ever creditable free encyclopedia, Wikipedia describes, Lacrimation (from L. Lacrima meaning Tear) can be used in a medical or literary sense to refer to crying. Strong emotions, such as sorrow or elation, may lead to crying.
I don’t know if I have ever been able to cry at a funeral, or in a cemetery. It is a fact that worries me. Today it seems like everything, even the stones can, but I’m too pissed to be emotional.
The emotion of being pissed off can certainly make you cynical and disregard your own emotions, as well as those around you. I too feel your pain in not having a snow day. I look forward to having an excuse not to commute 1 1/2 to campus and back and am such a homebody, it's also an excuse to stay inside. I get bummed when I'm looking forward to this, and then the weather just doesn't pull through for me. I would say that this unexpectedness, this unpredictability is the beauty of weather, but when someone's pissed, saying that would not equate solace. In any way, I feel for you!
ReplyDeleteThere's a great play of expectations in this post - from the expected to weather to being worried about not crying at funerals - something else we expect. Places like the cemetery are charged with expectations, beliefs, assumptions, unspoken understandings about what it means to be there. Places can change what we see in ourselves and illuminate things we never knew were there. It's weird how strongly a change in weather can affect our expectations of a day, or of a place.
ReplyDeleteI'm struck by how most people, at this point in the semester, are chronicling the hope that winter is ending. I'm intrigued by your seeking it out here. I love that surprise.
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