For a person like me, who believes that climate change is real, the blistering heat and insufferable humidity currently parked across a big part of the U.S., is the likely preview of the future. Global temperatures have been warming since about 1850 and are picking up speed. We even have new descriptors to explain these increasingly more common events. The term “heat dome” is a step up from “heat wave.”
“A heat dome is a specific weather phenomenon. It involves a high-pressure system lingering over a set region and trapping hot air. This can, in some cases, cause more intense and longer-lasting heat compared to regular heat waves. Some climate scientists believe that changes in the jet stream, brought on by our warming planet, are leading to longer and perhaps more frequent heat domes.” The Climate Reality Project.
All anyone has to do is a little bit of reading to know that floods, winds and fires are becoming more regular events across the globe. Hundred and thousand year storms are suddenly popping up everywhere and a lot more often than their names imply. All of these deadly plagues are associated with advancing climate change. Don’t believe it? Willful ignorance in my opinion. Scientific consensus is real. In any event,where I live, we have the additional element of “corn sweat.” Yes, a new term to me, too.
According to the National Weather Service, 1 acre of corn gives off about 3,000-4,000 gallons of water each day. That added moisture in the air then increases already high dew points, making it feel even more humid on a localized scale. In the past, we’ve seen “corn sweat” help jump dew points above 80 degrees, which is a stifling amount of humid air. The increased humidity can then help boost heat index temperatures even higher. According to the National Weather Service’s central Illinois office, mature Illinois corn crops “give off over 35 billion gallons of water daily into the atmosphere.” That’s enough water to fill over 52,500 Olympic-sized swimming pools, the agency noted.
I suppose the only way to really illustrate exactly how the air currently feels in Central Illinois, is to post a few relevant charts. And maybe to state the fact that in an area like mine, without a river or lake in sight for a cooling effect, the atmosphere feels like a burning anvil with a thick layer of oily water on its top.
Or, as the dew point above indicates, I’m living in what feels like a tropical rain forest. For days and days, every time I do anything other than sitting absolutely still, I am covered with sweat. I realize that I tend to run hotter than some people but seriously…I feel so grubby and uncomfortable I repel myself. Being constantly hot also messes with the body’s self-regulating system. After a couple of outdoor times when beginning to feel exhausted and dizzy, I realized that dehydration, especially in older people (us and the babies,) is something I need to be really mindful about, all the time.
Global warming has intensified extreme heat events, posing serious risks to public health (1). The frequency, intensity, and duration of extreme heat events are expected to grow rapidly in the coming decades, affecting more than 100 million Americans in 2050 (2). Extreme heat contributes to a range of health conditions, including hospitalization (3), cardiovascular diseases (4), and death (5). Health impacts from heat are particularly adverse among older adults due to age-related declines in thermoregulatory functions (6). Although links between extreme heat and morbidity and mortality are well established, knowledge of the biological underpinnings is limited. Science Magazine Advances Magazine – Research article – “Ambient outdoor heat and accelerated epigenetic aging among older adults in the US”
The result of all this heat-related discomfort has been the limiting of my outdoor time for the past few weeks. I try reminding myself to be graceful and accepting about circumstances beyond my control. I’m practicing but, the truth is, I do get frustrated that my time in the latter part of MY life is subject, at least partially, to the lifecycle of an ocean of cornstalks just outside the city limits.
To stay sane, I make sure to leave my house every day, if only for an hour. The corn isn’t the only thing growing around here so I’m grateful for the bounty of Saturday morning farmers’ market. Going early in the morning before the sidewalks sizzle is a good strategy.
The outdoor pool, my favorite summer respite for about 50 years now, continues to be my go-to place although it’s true that the unrelenting heat has raised the water temperature to what can feel like bathtub levels. I know that the cold people really like the warmth – me, not so much. What is more annoying is that being in the water masks how hot the body gets from forty minutes of cardiovascular exercise. So when I’m done with my routine, I feel just as drenched as I did while doing it. The lesser of two evils, though, as being completely sedentary isn’t good for anyone.
My beloved garden, my non-human child, needs my attention no matter how hot it feels out there. And I want to take care of it. But under the heat dome, the pleasure I usually take in the results of all my hard work, is definitely diminished. First, there’s the layering of sludge that I add to my own organic one. Sunscreen. When that dries, bug spray, that is, if you’re not interested in being the main course for all those thirsty bloodsuckers lurking in the humid air. In all fairness, even though I had greater tolerance for these annoyances when I was younger, I’ve never been a big fan of summer. I’m definitely partial to the spring and fall seasons. Not fond of winter, either. Sweat, mosquitoes and ice are not high on my to-do list. But I know, that to get the goodies I love, like a home for the pollinators, the butterflies and the birds, I have to be willing to deal with the rest.
With all the red flags surrounding the outdoor activities, staying inside becomes a necessary option. I’m not worried about having nothing to do as I have long lists of chores and goals that never seem to get shorter, no matter what I do. But then there’s this weird inertia that asserts itself, despite all my best intentions. Why is that?
I have plenty of hobbies which are readily available as sources of distraction. I’m not guilty about allowing those to occupy my time, at least for short periods of time.
It’s the random rabbit holes that are my real problem. I read a lot of articles every morning to begin my day. If there’s something new, something worrisome, something that I think needs fact-checking, or just something interesting, that shiny object can supplant all my intentions of tackling those endless lists of mine. I can’t say that my newly acquired knowledge, or better understanding of something I kind of knew, has no value, but when the day disappears, I don’t feel particularly satisfied either. When I had more structure in my life I was better at accomplishing tasks. But I truly have no structure at all. Because I live alone, I don’t have to accommodate anyone else’s needs. The only schedule around here, or the lack thereof, is mine. I sleep when I want to, wake up when I want to and eat when I want to. I don’t have to be anywhere by any time unless I feel like going. That amount of freedom was unheard of in my life before Michael’s death. His unwanted absence is actually what released me from responsibilities toward anyone but me. A hefty price to pay, although the truth is, I pretty much did what I chose to do when he was living. One of the reasons we had such an enduring relationship is because we both felt pretty free. Still, as the consummate caregiver, which is apparently who I was born to be, this freedom is quite a heady feeling. I have let go of all the constraints my choices required of me during the previous years of my existence. Except for when my kids really need me, I’m a free agent.
Recently, in one of those serendipitous moments that come along unbidden, I found another one of those enticing rabbit holes to explore. When I was eight months old, my family moved from Chicago to Sioux City, Iowa. We lived there for seven years before eventually returning to Illinois. Initially in Sioux City, we lived in a rental property before my parents bought the only home they’d ever own. I have a few glimmering memories of that first place but many more of our real house. My dad soured on homeownership after that time and afterwards, we only lived in apartment buildings. I never fully understood why, aside from some financial constraints, but later, when that part was better, he still refused to invest in what he called, “pain in the neck bricks and mortar.” Anyway, I never went back there. My older brother and sister did and said it was disappointing. I don’t know what they expected. In any case, I’m still curious about it.
About a month ago, I was hanging out with my two grandsons while their parents went out to dinner. The older one had a girlfriend dropping by for a visit. I went outside to meet her mother so she would feel confident that an adult was in the house and paying attention to kid shenanigans. Somehow our brief conversation revealed that she had grown up in Sioux City. She is the first person I’ve ever met who came from there, although an old friend who I saw at my 50th high school reunion had married someone also hailed from SC. In any event, we chitchatted about where we’d lived, what schools we attended and a favorite restaurant that was “the” place to go, now out of business. This conversation tapped into my natural curiosity.
With my interest piqued, I immediately began seeing what I could find out about what still existed in my memories. A little part of me was still back there in that dreamlike town. I found a few photos of Hunt School which I attended in kindergarten and first grade. I can feel myself in my kindergarten classroom and remember that back then, we took afternoon naps on our own little rugs after drinking a carton of milk. I also remember standing at the top of those outside stairs for a long time when my sister forgot to bring me home from school. Eventually I made my way home by myself. I even mapped out the route on Google maps to see how far it was. Hunt School closed in 2019 after 113 years of operation.
I found a photo of the Green Gables restaurant, also closed. We didn’t eat at restaurants very often so those experiences were memorable. I remember bowls of matzo ball soup and turkey club sandwiches stuffed with tomatoes and mayonnaise.
Eventually I went into the Woodbury county real estate records, where Sioux City is located. My house is still there, although heavily remodeled. The basic structure remains but the back porch was demolished. Probably it was falling apart at some point. Who knows when? I couldn’t locate any pictures of the front view which I remember as having another enclosed porch. That was the first place I received a May Day basket from one of my classmates, Connie, second row from the top, second from the left, in my class picture above.
I was flooded with memories about life in this place. Many of them are visual images, others are like little videos – hiding under the dining room table, sitting in the breakfast nook, having my dad wash my dirty little feet in the bathroom sink. My younger sister is still alive, but her memories are not mine and she’s more than two years younger than me. Everyone else in my family is gone. Would I remember more if I went back to Sioux City for a visit when so many landmarks are gone or changed? Probably not. But then there were our neighbors and friends. I can still see some of them and remember their names. Would they remember me? I started looking around for them and wouldn’t you know, there’s at least one neighbor who has a Facebook profile. So far I haven’t pursued any contact.
I don’t suppose there’s any really critical reason for me to pursue this deep dive any further, aside from the possibility that it could be interesting. In the midst of this steamy summer, I find myself thinking about questions with no answers. Who would I have been if my family hadn’t moved back to Chicago? Would I have skipped a year of elementary school in Sioux City or was that not a thing there? What if I’d been a year older when I graduated from high school in a much smaller town? My two beloved neighbors from across the street graduated from the high school back there. Who are they now and would I still know them? They’re alive. Does any of this matter? Or is this all a fever dream brought on by the heat? I have a lot to do that isn’t any of this…but I’m still thinking about it.
Postscript : the heat broke last night and it’s blessedly much cooler. I’ll think about this more while I’m out pulling weeds tomorrow.