Another Letter From Cousin Throckmorton

I may need to explain Cousin Throckmorton.

He lives down in a Kentucky Holler so deep the 1970's haven't even found their way in yet, much less the new millennium. He writes me occasionally, and sometimes I believe what he has to say is worth sharing. This weeks letter was one of those times.

Dear Cousin Red,

We had a real cold spell this past week, and I don’t believe my bones have thawed out yet. It’s not that I ain’t used ta bein’ cold, but even an Eskimo has his limits. It got so cold we had to invent a new way a’ talkin’ ‘bout it. 

Usta' be we had three levels a’ cold. First was Jacket Weather. That means if y’all is goin’ out the door, an’ ain’t getting’ in the car, take a jacket. The temperature would vary ‘pendin’ on who was talkin’ to who. If it was my Ma talkin ta one a’ her kids, jacket weather started from 60 degrees on down. When tryin’ to impress your buddies, it started at ‘bout zero. 

Ya’ know, when y’all first would get to high school in the mornin’, an’ it’s ‘bout 10 degrees, an’ y’all got icicles hangin’ from every finger, one a’ y’all’s buddies would ask, “Cold out?” An’ y’all had ta answer, “Jacket Weather.”

The next step down was Hat an’ Coat. That started for my Ma at ‘bout 50 degrees. Y’all had mommas, y’all know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. Early in spring, when 50 is sweatin’ weather, an’ a little dip in the crick sounds good, as y’all is runnin’ outta the house hollerin’ where y’all is headin’, an’ sure ‘nough, Ma is hollerin’ back “Take your hat an’ coat!”

At what once was the bottom of the list was Get Your Gloves. This level had nuthin’ ta do with temperature, but a lot ta do with snow. It also had a lot ta do with what was goin’ on in the snow. We could spend hours outside without gloves buildin’ snowmen an’ snow forts, havin’ snow ball fights an’ the like, but if’n we had to shovel the dang stuff, first we had ta spend an hour huntin’ for our gloves, an’ hopin for a quick thaw.

This year we had ta add a’nuther step, Full Battle Dress. We had on so many layers a’ clothes, there weren’t no need for closets. We spent so much time so layered up some folks still walk ‘round with there fingers spread out, an’ their arms six inches from their bodies like they can’t get no closer. I ain’t one of ‘em. For me, it was Jacket Weather.    

Best wishes from all of us in the Holler,

Throckmorton Q. Sheisseschnitter