Fun Friday: Why I Hate The Cold

For perspective, this was from November of 2019, pre-pandemic.

I have family and friends that have made fun of me for hating the cold. My late wife used to call me her "winter weather wimp" which got picked up by friends who call me this and other variations to this day. It seems I've always been this way, and it will continue for years to come. I do not expect sympathy at all, and that's fine, as I literally do not care one way or the other what others think about my issues with feeling cold.

Here are a couple of early memories that probably helped shape (scar) my thoughts involving cold weather.

The Football Game

When I was a very young lad, my father (a Kansas University alumni) and his best friend at work (a Kansas State University alumni) would take their families up to visit respective family members in Kansas, with the intent of attending the annual KU/KSU football game. As we lived in Tulsa this wasn't a huge trip as our family would head up there every couple of months to visit relatives anyway.

I think the year was maybe 1969 or so. I was young, and wanted to go to the game with my dad, so we went while my siblings and mother stayed at my Grandma's house. It was snowing and there was a good 3-4" of snow already on the ground, but we went anyway. We had horrible seats (end zone, bought that day) and I was small enough I could not see anything but the back of the person in front of me. Plus unless something was happening at that end of the field, no one in the end zone could see things either.

These were wooden bleachers - basically long wooden planks to sit on, with a long wooden plank to walk on to get to your seat. Yes, they were open to the elements, and while my back was facing south, the wind still came up and froze my legs and eventually the rest of me.

The KU mascot is the Jayhawk. In an old KU fighting song was the line "rock chock Jayhawk" which the rivals KSU had picked up on. Most of the KU students were in the western stands while the KSU students were in the eastern stands although a large number of KSU students were seated around us. Everyone once in a while KSU students would chant "rock chock chickenhawk, fuck KU!!" and the KU students would immediately reply "eat shit, eat shit, KSU!!" and it would go back and forth like a song. It was shocking as I knew bad words were being used, so I sat there shocked, freezing, with my Dad and his friend saying things like "you're fine, stiff upper lip, here's some coffee to warm you up."

The coffee tasted like hot dirt (come to think of it, also hate coffee, maybe this is why...), I couldn't see anything but the backs of grownups in coats, the game lasted forever, and I was so cold that my insides were shaking uncontrollably. Even after we got to the car and drove to Grandma's house to have dinner with my family, it took a good hour after I got there sitting in front of the fireplace for my insides to stop quivering. All the while I was told by my Dad to "toughen up" and how it wasn't that bad.

The Camping Trip

Maybe a year after that, I went on a camping trip with my small Cub Scout troop. We had been invited to join up with a Boy Scout troop that was quite large, with a lot of older boys and adult leaders experienced with camping.

It was winter time, the trip had been planned for weeks, so when it snowed the Friday we were due to leave we were told it would be fine, the boys could sleep in the barn on whoever's property this was. When we arrived Friday evening it was already dark, but we were put on various tasks. I was on firewood-stacking duty. Within minutes I was freezing.

We were sent to sleep in the loft in the barn. These were bare boards, no hay or anything, and so the sleeping bags were unrolled and we crawled in. The more experienced Scouts stripped down their underwear which I thought was insane in this cold. I barely slept, and shook most of the night. I was up early and went down to the fire where I was immediately put to work tending to the fire and helping to cook breakfast, which was fine. We had two fires - one for cooking and one to just keep people warm. As other boys got up, they were put on firewood duty or charged with gathering water - both cold tasks away from the fire, so I considered myself lucky.

I relayed to one of the Scoutmasters how cold it was in the barn, and he asked me if I had a change of clothes, including underwear. Yes, my mother had insisted I pack a change of clothes. He told me that skin oils and sweat would soak into your clothes during the day, so before I went to sleep I should take my clean clothes and underwear with me into my sleeping bag, change in the bag for privacy, and then I wouldn't feel so cold. He said it was a trick he learned in the Army.

Saturday night I was quite tired from lack of sleep and headed up to the barn a earlier than the others, got changed and even packed away my dirty clothes, and crawled into my sleeping bag falling asleep almost instantly. I woke up early again but I'd probably had a solid 8 or 9 hours. I helped with tending the fire and cooking, and when the Scoutmaster asked how I slept I told him it was great, his advice had worked, and thanked him.

In Conclusion

I realized after my camping trip I could take control and get warm, but it was up to me. I ignored what others said and began to grasp the concept of peer pressure, and tried to put myself first. Obviously I was not successful 100% of the time, but when it came to being cold I focused on my own comfort first and that helped a lot.

I hate that muscle convulsion thing in my stomach when I am freezing, so if I can avoid that I do. Calling me a "winter weather wimp" or "weather wienie" has no impact. As long as I am warm, I am happy, and you can call me what you will.