My oh my it's fun to be quoted…
This was sent to me by the lovely and talented Melinda Wood Allen, minister at Unity of Farmers Branch Texas, from a book she's reading: “Love According to Science” by Claire Kingsley. Thanks Melinda!
I hope your 2026 is off to a hotter start than here in the Heartland.
I'm writing this on Sunday, Jan. 25, the weekend of the National Deep Freeze. Ice, snow and zero-degree temps (and worse) over about half the U.S. The weather map makes it look like another ice age has landed on us.
From my office window I can see a murder of crows trying to murder a large barred owl. Or at least chase him/her out of the neighborhood. So far they are unsuccessful. The big owl is oblivious to the crows. And all of these birds seem completely oblivious to the below-zero temperature.
Turns out those feathers are a really good invention.
Barred owl just outside my front door
Yesterday my boiler broke. I don't know anything about boilers except it's what heats the house, and mine is always noisy. So I was not that alarmed when it started clanging, gnashing, and grinding more than usual. I thought it had something to do with hell freezing over.
But when the indoor temperature started plummeting to Greenland levels, I became alarmed. What if I froze to death in my own home?
And that got me wondering: how would I want them to find me?
- Frozen in place at my computer, writing this newsletter, counting my crypto?
- Frozen in my recliner, watching new episodes of "All Creatures Great and Small" with a half-eaten cauliflower-crust pizza on my lap?
- In bed, wearing 5 layers of cold weather clothes and a stocking cap, under 7 layers of blankets, my arms and legs wrapped around a frozen dog?
So many options.
When I called my landlord, he immediately freaked out that the radiators might freeze. Major repair job! The plumbing pipes would freeze too! More major repairs! Massive amounts of money!
The fact that I, personally, and the lovely pup I am dog-sitting might freeze to death, or at least lose a few of our favored limbs to frostbite, did not seem to inconvenience his thoughts at all. Of course, replacing a frozen-to-death renter would always be easier than re-plumbing the whole house, so I get it.*
* Just kidding. He's a great landlord.
** Usually.
Anyway it was a cold night. The temperature inside the house got down to 39ºF. The same as inside your refrigerator. I really did have every blanket I own on the bed, plus 5 layers of clothing, plus a dog. It was a three dog night...but only one dog.
So it was a close call. At least for the radiators. Fortunately the pup and I also survived. Even better, at 10am this morning (a Sunday) we were blessed by the arrival of Cecil Gibbs, Super Plumber! Cecil was able to not only diagnose the problem - bad boiler pump - but even FIX the thing without waiting two days for parts! Felt like a miracle. Felt like salvation. Praise the Lord and pass the Guinness Extra Stout, Cecil's preferred beverage.
According to my witty Irish pal John Dunne:
"A good plumber is more important than God...
or at least more dependable."
This 24 hours of discomfort - very lucky and grateful it was only that - has reminded me how many people don't have enough heat or even a warm place to live. A national tragedy that somehow we can't seem to fix. Anyway, I've spent the last hour collecting all my surplus clothing, especially coats, and will drop them at the Salvation Army tomorrow. Or whenever my car can make it through the snow.
As always, thanks for reading! Stay warm out there!
Big Love,
Greg
