I don’t melt (started 12/22/03)

I was not one of those children who liked to play in the rain. I was not drawn to puddles. I did not revel in catching rain drops in my mouth. I don’t remember disliking rain either. In school I associated rain with the game heads up seven up. We stayed in our classrooms at lunch and it kept us quiet.

I grew up in Southern California, near the ocean, where it really only rained in November and February. Really, it could rain any time between November and February, but it didn’t rain so much that you wanted it to end. I knew that if it rained too late and too much in late January that the strawberries would not be ready in time for my birthday. That meant I would not get fresh strawberries on my waffles at my birthday breakfast. That was about how much thought I gave to rain growing up.

My parents always hoped for rain. People in Southern California check the sky and pray for rain. Then they hope it will come slowly and evenly and not in great down pours. But usually when it rained, it rained. I remember a whole week in November and a whole week in January, usually the last week. Too much rain and it will flood, but not on my street.

If it didn’t rain enough come next September, the fire danger would be greater. Rain meant green mountains in late February and March. And snow on the mountains. If for some reason it rained late in the season, March or April, that meant the fire danger would be even greater. Too much rain meant too much growth.

We wanted the rain in the winter because if it rained on us, it was snowing in the mountains. In California, we store our water as snow on the mountains. The more snow on the mountain the better our water levels. The snow waits to melt until June, so even though it’s not raining, we still have water.

When I lived in New Jersey it rained all the time; indiscriminately, I thought. If it didn’t rain for two weeks they were on TV talking about a drought. We didn’t call it a drought in California unless it hadn’t rained for five years. With so much rain in New Jersey, why didn’t they have anything to show for it? Why didn’t they store their rain as snow on the mountains? I looked around one day after another drought warning had been announced, and I realized they didn’t have any mountains, just some hills. I guess those hills aren’t big enough to store snow.

I didn’t crave rain and playing in puddles, but I didn’t dislike it either. But living in rainy New Jersey, I discovered that I don’t like umbrellas or rain coats. Umbrellas are big and unwieldy and after you use them they are wet. I learned to hate umbrellas in New Jersey. It seemed to never fail to turn my brand new umbrella inside out every time. And people in New Jersey, I guess Princeton really, like really BIG umbrellas. They are big enough to cover four people: the kind that you can turn upside down and make into a boat and float away. Only under each umbrella is only one person and the sidewalk is a sea of orange and black and no room for anyone with a normal size umbrella to walk…and no way someone without an umbrella won’t get her eye poked out.

In Oxnard, we often have that slow, steady rain we love; the kind that soaks slowly into the ground filling up our water table and keeping the sea water at bay. When it’s a serious downpour, you just want to curl up with your pillow and blankie and read a book. It won’t rain for long, so it doesn’t matter if you slow down for one day and enjoy a good book.

Rain makes me feel antsy though. You’re in and you know you don’t want to be out, but then you feel like you can’t go out. Then you’re just upset that the rain is keeping you in, even though five minutes ago you were happy to have an excuse to stay in. I don’t like to be in rain very much, but I dislike worrying about umbrellas more.

I guess it was in New Jersey that I learned how to hate umbrellas and resent the rain. In New Jersey it seems like any day could turn into a rainy day. It rains in the winter, in the fall, in the spring, no surprises, but it rains in the summer! You can’t plan any outdoor event without planning for a rain date. I remember the first question I asked after my first summer in New Jersey, how can you ever have a pick up picnic? Waking up some morning and deciding to go out to the ranch for an impromptu cook-out is one of the best things in the whole world. There’s none of that in New Jersey. In Oxnard you know if it’s not an 80% chance of rain or better, it’s not going to rain. But, I guess like Eskimos with snow, while I lived in New Jersey I also learned to note the different kinds of rain and the signs that rain was coming. There is the hurricane rain. The wind blows and a darkness creeps across the sky. Then as if someone has cut a hole in the sky, the rain falls, really gushes like out of an opened fire hydrant.

I stopped carrying an umbrella while living in New Jersey. I am not sure how many the wind ruined before I realized I didn't need one. I don't melt. I knew for sure I wouldn't melt one September afternoon when hurricane Hugo dropped a ton of rain on Princeton. I was somewhere in the middle of campus when the deluge started. It was warm and windy and I was soaked, but I didn't melt. So, after that, I just trudged out fearlessly. Usually, if it started raining, someone else had an umbrella. I would sidle up and take his arm (whoever he was, I often didn't get a name) and walk with him under the over-sized umbrella as far as I could. Then I would look for another unsuspecting umbrella toter or just get wet.

I finally broke down and bought a rain coat, but I miss making friends with umbrella toters, a little. I don't mind getting wet, and I really enjoy the wind in my hair. It's a little more annoying when I have my glasses on, but wet glasses in need of drying off is just another excuse to make a friend or two.

I especially like announcing, "I don't believe in umbrellas," whenever someone asks me incredulously, "Don't you have an umbrella?" It really ticks people off. "What do you mean you don't believe in umbrellas? They are real, they are not something you can just choose not to believe in like religion." Ah, but they are so wrong, I can or cannot believe in anything I want. That's my free willy as I like to call it and I exercise it at every opportunity!

Finished 2/26/05