ISLAND IMPRESSIONS BY FR. TOM PURDY, RECTOR OF CHRIST CHURCH
I
It Really is the Humidity
wrote about humidity last month, and I’m revisiting the topic following a recent vacation out west. We enjoyed some time in the mountains, with their cool mornings, and also explored the desert a bit. The lowest temperature of the trip was around sixty degrees, while the highest was one hundred and fifteen. That’s a big swing, to be sure. What was most notable, however was my opportunity to experience summer temperatures without our South Georgia humidity! Humidity is not new to me. The part of Pennsylvania I grew up in was in a bit of a geographic bowl, and in a typical summer with typical rainfalls, it’s plenty humid in those parts. Southeast Georgia, however, is in a category unto itself. Since I moved here I’ve petitioned for blessed Willis Carrier to be included on the calendar of saints in our church tradition. I think he’s historically responsible for more prayers of thanksgiving than potentially any other human being. I can’t be the only one who comes in from outside to feel the refreshing coolness as the air conditioning envelopes me and utter my thanks to God! Let’s just say I have developed a new appreciation for air conditioning, be it in my car, my home, or my office. It’s hot here in the summer, and I’m not really complaining. I’ll take our hot and humid days over the chill, cold, and gray of winter that I grew up with. Every day, and twice on Sunday. 62
ELEGANT ISLAND LIVING
Well, maybe not on Sunday. Wearing liturgical robes can be, shall we say, unpleasant, when one stands outside to greet before and after services in the summer. That’s why our clergy team all have ice cooling vests to wear under our robes. Clearly, they were invented for police and emergency responders, and those who work outdoors, but they also work wonders for priests! And while it’s cliché to say it, it’s clearly the humidity. My cousin, whom I visited out west on this trip, is a police officer in a very hot desert community. As the subject of the incredibly high temperatures came up, he interrupted me to interject, “don’t say it’s a dry heat!” It seems the locals don’t like hearing from folks like me who have no pity on them for their heat. But when you’re used to humidity in addition to high temperatures, being out west is like standing in the ice cream aisle in the grocery store. The heat there, which happens to be dry (See, Alan, I didn’t say it!), really is more comfortable than heat down here. I think it’s because sweat glands simply cry uncle in extreme humidity. The heat out there (which happens to be dry) is still hot, don’t get me wrong. But it’s just not as oppressive. We hiked a fair amount in desert locales, and while we drank a good bit of water, it wasn’t unbearable. The proprietary vent system built into the back of my day pack actually allowed air to move and cool me down,
whereas it’s more of a gimmick in these parts. The intense heat in the desert is not without its dangers, though. It can and does kill people. Just a week after we got home I read a report of a man who died after hiking in the same national park we had hiked. He had water with him, but didn’t drink enough, and died from severe dehydration back at his hotel. Cases like his are the reason there are signs at trail heads warning of the risk of death if one hikes without sufficient water. While it may feel like I want to die as a result of our humidity on occasion, I’ve never really felt in danger of it. My mouth doesn’t get dry here like it did out there – the indication that you need to take a drink. Drinking when thirsty, and only when thirsty is the way those warning signs tell you to balance between dehydration and overhydrating, apparently. It’s a bit of a novel idea, I know, but I’ve never seen it on a sign here. Maybe that humidity is good for something besides letting me be lazy with watering the plants on my front porch after all. I suppose I’ll keep the humidity too. I enjoyed the dry heat (yes, I said it), but it felt wrong somehow. Maybe it’s just that I’ve grown accustomed to my Southern card that says, “It’s a dry heat,” on one side, and, “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity,” on the other. I like to play that card. At the end of the day, though, it’s just hot. I’m going to hang out in the air-conditioning a while longer. See you in the fall.
