What I Learned From Elaine In Life and Death

No, Not Elaine from Seinfeld!

This is the Elaine who was/is the mother of Brad.

Who is Elaine to me? I met Brad in the third grade — a long, long, long time ago. Brad and I share June 18, 1956 as the date of our birth. We played line ball in the alley back of their house. We went to both grade school and Hebrew school together. We shared a Bar Mitzvah. Elaine was in the circle of parents I knew since the time I had to look up to look into a parent’s eye.

In the early years I experienced a warm, friendly, Jewish mom who always made me feel good. She had a way about her that was welcoming. That never changed. I felt that even after Brad and I mostly lost touch after high school. I would still run into of Elaine, and her husband Shel, over the years — at stores in my old neighborhood or at the synagogue my parents continued to attend. At the High Holidays after time spent with my parents I would make the 4 row pilgrimage to visit with Elaine and Shel to hear about Brad and be asked about me and my family. My mother also considered her a good friend. Someone with whom she could share her innermost thoughts.

What I learned from Elaine in life, what stands out the most, is that while being with Elaine I would feel how genuinely happy she was to be with me. In those moments I was the most important person in her world. Her warmth was authentic and she never, as some people can do, faked sincerity. I learned at her funeral how fully she lived this way by the stories told by her son and granddaughters. They loved her as much as she loved them – deeply. One of my life goals is to have the people that I am with feel that same way, but Elaine was the very best and set a standard I aspire to but have not yet reached. (We should all aspire to this as it deepens connections to family, friends and all others in our lives.)

While I learned more about Elaine at her funeral service (that she met Shel in the first grade and had a deep knowledge of Jewish law and custom) it was the after funeral experience that touched me more. Shel and Elaine had a few years earlier moved into a high class assisted living building. The shiva was held there. Two experiences stand out for me.

I visited their new home a few hours after the service. Immediately I had a vision into what my future might hold — though hopefully not for another 20+ years! The first thing I noticed was not the age on people’s faces, I expected that. It was the walkers that also function as a chair. They were everywhere, with everyone. I walked through the common area in the direction the gazebo where the shiva was to be held. Older but active, in their way, people sat, stood or strolled – moving in and out of conversations. I was in a place of life, not a place of waiting for death, albeit life at a slower physical speed.

I am already of a certain age. I refuse to be old but am no longer young. It showed during this visit. I wandered to where I was told the gazebo would be but it was not there. After minutes of searching, I paused for a moment. A woman sitting and knitting asked if I needed help. I explained why I was there and the room I was trying to find. She informed me that I was a day early for the shiva. (I later looked at the program from the service and the date was indeed tomorrow’s. Some combination of approaching “old” and the pandemic has led to me not being aware of dates).

We then shared how we knew Elaine. She shared a story of how she found out Elaine was very ill. She shared it twice with a small pause between. As a child of dementia my mind raced to a conclusion about this woman’s mental health, but it was the last time she repeated herself. As I was about to excuse myself to leave she offered to show me where the room was. Being in no hurry and wanting to honor an elder I accompanied her to the gazebo. It was a slow walk. And yet I stayed in the moments and enjoyed the time I spent with this no longer a stranger. On my way out she shared that she would look for me tomorrow. Upon my arrival the next day, she caught my eye and said “I see you made it back”. I felt seen.

At the Shiva I met more of Elaine and Shel’s friends who shared their love of Elaine and promises to watch after Shel. These are people who may be in the later stages of their lives but are not slowing down and have not lost their humanity or love for being alive.

I am trying to figure out how I want the rest of my life to be. I have ideas and yet implementation has been slow. I worry about my current physical limitations and kvetch that I cannot do what I once could do. Elaine’s lessons to me after her death came from “bringing” me to here community –twice. Whatever I am today and whatever life throws at me, my life will be defined by what I do and how I “be”. All of that is in my control.

Thank you Elaine for the life lessons and for being a friend to my mom when she wanted and needed one. Your impact on this world – and my world– extends well past your 93 years on the planet.

A Modest Proposal – A Little Help From My Friends

I’m stuck. I don’t actually like that word as a descriptor but I am not sure how else to describe it. What is true is that I am in a life transition and not moving forward. I HATE that this has been true. So I have a request of all my friends and allies. However, before I ask, let me help you – and me- better understand why I am asking before getting to what I am asking. 

I am aware that I have gifts. I am a person of more than average intelligence, I have a kind and caring heart, a dry sense of humor, a great laugh and does what he needs to do.  I have had a successful business career, I have a wife I love, a son I love,like and admire and have collected friends along the way. 

Yet despite my gifts, here I am. For the moment, stuck. 

At 65, I am transitioning to less work and more…stuff I will be getting to. I am doing this while dealing with a medical condition that leaves me fatigued and in pain more than I would like. So in addition to the work/life transition there is the physical transition. The physical transition is also a mental and emotional one in that I am F’in frustrated trying to get the right healers to help, knowing who to believe and having the patience to go through treatment options with time frames of 3-6 months before I know whether they are working. I have periods of fear and anger that I will never be “the same” followed by hope as well as the awareness that I am far better off than many. I also know that how I respond is in my hands. I refuse to be a victim to all of this (except on those moments when a pity party feels like the most I can do; ever been there?).

For 41 years, I used work as an excuse as to why I was not doing other things I love. Figuring out what those things were became step number 1. A couple of years ago as I examined my yearnings and wants, they coalesced into “The Dream”. The Dream emerges from my yearnings to connect with people, learn new things and have fun. Historically dreaming and being concerned about my enjoyment were secondary to me the needs of others. I now believe that a satisfied me will allow me to bring more to others. Win-Win. 

Here Rick’s dream. I am traveling the world. Exploring places and meeting people. Connecting beyond the superficial level. Making new friends. Learning new cultures. I make even more connections through taking pictures of and writing about my experiences and sharing them, along with a uniquely Rick point of view, with the world. More connections are made!. I also want to engage through my passions for cycling,SCUBA and music. I want to learn how to play at least one instrument. I picked harmonicas as my first choice. Why you may ask. Because I have faith I can learn how to play and I can have one with me at all times and jump in anytime/anywhere music breaks out – or I can break it out and draw people in. 

Get me talking about this dream and the passion is palpable. I light up. It is clear that this is for me. I have photography and harmonica lessons to take, writing skills to further develop (write and write more is my motto) which will also lead to more people and connection. Go Rick Go!

Except I haven’t yet. Not much anyway. This is where you all come in. I am asking you to help unstick me. Now before you come up with your theory on my stuckness (need for perfection, afraid to fail, need better planning and organization- all true). Before you share your ideas of where I should seek help (therapist, life coach, yogi, bear, accountability partner – any of which might work). And definitely before you tell me to Just Do It and name all of the people you know who are doing things. STOP. I am not asking you to rescue me. I am not asking you to fix me. That’s my job. 

Here is what I AM asking. Call me. Call me more. Call me much more. By call I mean text, Zoom, FaceTime Google Duo, postcard, snail mail, email, meet me do something fun with me. Connect. Connect as often and as deeply as you can, more than you have. Why? Because I am betting that being with people regularly will be the key to my unsticking. I am betting that knowing you are in my corner, that you care, that I matter will generate positive energy. I am sure of it. 

Sure enough to make myself vulnerable. Sure enough to ask for something that may be difficult for you to give. Your life is busy. So many people who need you. For me, asking for your time is already a big step.

So what are you in for 1/week? Twice? 3 times? There is no contract. The connection does not have to be for an hour – though I will make time for those. A couple of minutes. Maybe 15.

Schedule on your calendar. Call Rick. When You have that free moment that came unexpectedly. Call Rick. When You need to be heard. Call Rick. When You want to let me know that I matter. Call Rick. When that funny thing happened that You know I will like. When you have an interesting thing You did or read about. When you need a friend. When You want to be a friend. Call Rick. Call Rick. Call Rick.

I like to analyze things. This is the great “Call Rick” experiment. I can track connections, gather data, create graphs and charts. Show what works and what doesn’t work. Then I can follow the science. (Actually, this is the dry humor coming through. Hard to hear it without tone. I won’t do any of those things but it would be cool if someone does.)

I think you are getting the picture. The Dream starts with my yearning to connect. The more I connect the easier the other aspects of the Dream will be for me to pursue. 

By the way, you may get something out of it too. I dare you to find out!

p.s. For my friends and allies I know through the Wright Foundation, I am not asking for mommie calls, not exactly. Will I appreciate support and encouragement? Absolutely. But let’s not limit it to that. Think of the possibilities.

What Do You Mean, Just Do It?

At this very moment I am going through several transitions and I feel a little lost.

One, I am planning for the time when I work less or not at all. I have a toe in the water.

Two. I just finished the second of 3 levels of programs dedicated to growing my emotional and social intelligence through the Wright Foundation For The Realization Of Human Potential. In this last program I had a team of eight and interacted regularly with 40 others on this path of learning and growing. Now, for the moment, it is just me.

Three. I began taking meds 3 months ago to address a non-life threatening but huge pain-in-the ass medical condition. The main symptoms are fatigue and pain. I can handle the pain but the fatigue steals too many hours a week right out from under me.

I am living with the least amount of structure I have had in years. Partly the lack of structure is a gift. The opportunity to be spontaneous exists. I am finding that for some, me among them, spontaneity is a learned skill or at least a sleeping art waiting to be reawakened. It surely isn’t coming easily. (Don’t call me Shirley)*

Part of my growth is to having shifted from loathing the tag, “Just Do It” to merely finding it annoying. There are clearly people who find it inspiring and have launched themselves into something new with energy and excitement! G-d love those people. I am an introvert trying hard to make changes in my life so I can better achieve my yearnings to connect, to make a difference and to be loved. Hard when you start out shy. Even harder in a pandemic. But not impossible. I can Just Do It. It may take me longer than others. That’s OK.

I became 65 as of June 18, 2021. That is partly nothing more than a statement. Certainly not an excuse. But it is true. (I’ll come back to this in a future post.)

You may ask by now, Is this post heading somewhere? Reread the title and there is your answer. NO! I am finding my way. Trying not to beat myself up for not having answers right now. Wanting to ensure I don’t become the guy on the couch watching Soaps or the guy in the park feeding pigeons. It could happen. Atrophy is one of my characteristics, but not the dominant one.

I am searching for a purpose and a vision of how I want to be in the world. I am trying some out, wearing them for awhile and seeing if they fit.

Here is one. I want to connect with people. Lot’s of people. When I say connect I do not mean collect. Collecting is having a large number of FB friends that you really don’t know but you brag about the number. Connecting means that there is a link between you ask someone else. Some links are stronger and deeper than others but in all cases the link exists. The dream I am wearing now has a mixture of travel, photography, writing, music (starting with a harmonica) some SCUBA and lots of cycling. The common thread is connecting. I meet people during my travels, we talk, I write about what I see, hear and think, I take pictures – more of people than places — I learn from the people I meet and they learn from me and then I connect with more people who like the way I tell stories through words and pictures.

I have had this dream for a decade. I am ready to take it on. Ready in the sense of willingness, not ready in terms of execution. Something is blocking. There is a thin veil between my dreams and my actions. I could use some help, guidance, support and a cheerleader or twenty.

This is only the second piece I have written since I announced the dream to some friends several months ago. Not as much progress as I want. I fear that time is not on my side. I am taking small steps – for now.

Come play with me. I would like your company and you will likely get something too. I learned something, no, was reminded of something, a week ago. A week ago was my last day in the second of the Wright Foundations three levels of training. We take a few minutes out of a longer meeting to say goodbye to people moving up. I have sat through dozens of these watching some beloved people move on. Typically 2-3 people say something. I know I touch some lives. I try hard to touch another’s life. Yet, I figured a couple of people who knew me well would say something nice and we would move on. Then it happened. It started with a woman I do not know intimately saying that I had touched her life. Then someone else I did not think would speak said something. And another…and another and…

I have a gift. Not sure that I know how to define it or if I even want to try. Come play with me. I know that I will transform from being with you. Maybe you will transform too.

Thinking of starting a new blog with the title “Road to 10,000 Friends”. Ambitious number, isn’t it. Why not! Think of the fun I will have if I really go for it whether I get there or not. Let’s Just Do It.

*See movie “Airplane”. See it not just to get the reference but because it is hilarious.

No, That’s Not THE Bad Thing

Bad things been happening. Monday afternoon the cold started. No not a temperature drop though that happened too. Major league, even All Star worthy, head cold. Been at it four 4 days. Sneezing, can hardly breath, headache from the sneezes, can’t think straight, over the counter crap doesn’t even dent it, can’t sleep at night, mother of a head cold. Been here for 4 days. I am MISERABLE. Still have to work. What is a sick day if you are already working from home? (another blog post). And that’s not THE bad thing.

Tuesday night I am doing my nightly stuff 2 pills down the cat’s throat routine and I get sloppy; she chomps down hard and draws blood. By the next day it’s puffy and red and hurts. And that’s not THE bad thing.

It’s Friday evening. I was supposed to be on a romantic weekend with my wife. Our first attempt at a night away since being vaccined [Please don’t comment that the proper word is vaccinated. I know. I like vaccined better and it’s my blog.] Instead I am still sick as a dog at home and she is with a good friend in Holland, Michigan at the Tulip festival. I am home with the cat. The one who bites me. And guess what. Yup, you know.

So what does a guy who is alone, sick but ambulatory do on a Friday night. He heads to the Walgreens with the intention of picking up his antibiotics (for the bite, not the cold), get a tetanus shot and a COVID test (just in case the cold is more than a cold; after all it is still pandemic time). That my friends is good living.

However, turns out the COVID test needs to be scheduled – there is no one in line behind me at the pharmacy – and I can’t get the shot and take the meds at the same time. I get to come back two more times. And that’s not THE bad news. (Do you like the way I work the title into the story?) (Do you like the way I talk to the reader or is it merely annoying?)

Ok.It’s time for the big reveal. On top of the Friday night plans I shared above, I had this idea of spending my lonely weekend night with a pour or two of a good bourbon, in the special bourbon glass my friend Ches, got for me while sitting outside enjoying the sunset. Of course antibiotics and bourbon don’t mix. Now THAT is THE bad thing.

I generally agree with the quote, “pain is inevitable but suffering is optional”. It has been a painful week. And, I have chosen to suffer. Too F’in bad. It kinda makes me feel better. Anyone else out there feel the same?

Jazz Band At The Shiva

Jazz Band At The Shiva. I was immediately stuck by the melodic phrasing, imagery, and feeling of incongruence in these words. Steve spoke them matter-of-factly and yet with a hint of irony as the two of us stood, watched and listened. Jazz Band At The Shiva always felt as if it should have been the title of a live recording of a Wes Montgomery or Bill Evans quartet at some smokey New York club.

The shiva was for a friend’s mom. I had not known her well. Maybe we shared the same room 2 or 3 times. Most of my feelings about her came from Lori. Lori’s relationship with her mother was complicated to say the least. Just prior to her death she had not been well and to some degree the final moment was a blessing. Yet as any of us who have lost someone close knows there is never a good time for the end. It is always sad. It always hurts. She left behind a husband with whom she had shared a lifetime, two daughters and grandchildren.

Dan and I walked in together to pay our respects. It was good to see Dan who first became a friend in high school. We reconnected in grad school and the reconnected again years later. He had left the place we grew up and which made hanging out defined as we did in the “olden days” –meaning sharing the same physical space not just a virtual one– far too rare. More about Dan another day.

Dan, Lori and I each knew each other well but there was only a modest overlap in the relationships. I had met Lori in high school though we did not become friends until sometime after college and grad school. We hung out as friends often enough that I got to know her sister Julie and Julie’s husband Kevin. Dan better knew Lori’s parents than I did. In all cases mpst of our time together was decades and a lifetime before.

Relationships being what they are when you stay close to where you grew up, Dan and I knew that other friends would be among the roomful of strangers. We were in the public room of the condo association where Lori’s parents lived. As is traditional at Shivas, there were tables of food and people scattered about the room. Some had paid their respects and were congregating in groups based on past friendships and finding the best spots between the food tables and the bar. Others were waiting for the right moment to seek out the family member they knew and then introducing themselves to the ones they did not.

At first for me the jazz band, while a surprise, was just background as I sought out Lori and caught Dan up on the lives of the people he had grown up with but had not seen for years. After Lori came her sister Julie and reintroducing myself to their dad.  I joined the contingent of food eaters and small talkers. I congregated near the people I knew best. Over time the jazz band became more prominent in my consciousness. They were good and I should be able to but can’t remember the band’s composition. I believe there was a stand up base, drums, piano and maybe a clarinet.Howver for me the details or even the quality of music has never been important. Jazz Band at the Shiva. The uniqueness of having a jazz band at the Shiva and the phrase itself have stuck with me over the years.

For those that have never been to a Shiva let me provide some context. In my corner of the Jewish world (traditional but not hard core, suburban, modestly well off) a shiva lasts from one day to a week. Its purpose is to help the loved ones grieve but also to begin the process of moving beyond the grief. Family and friends bring to the bereaved their presence, caring, support and love…and tons of food. The food feeds the family so they have one less thing to be concerned with but also the guests.

A Shiva is typically loud from conversations. Some of the din is helping console the bereaved, some to celebrate the life of the dead and some just of people who haven’t had a reason to be together reconnecting and catching up on the lives of people whose lives once intertwined with their own.

Despite the volume of sound, rarely if ever is there music at a shiva. On the topics of whether or not having a jazz band was traditional or appropropriate; my response to both is “who cares”. There are no rules, no laws.This made sense for Lori’s family. Was it unusal, yes. So what? The fact that even a brief conversation on the topic broke out is irrelevant. People should have the right to do what they want especially at difficult moments. No harm to any Jew was occurred due to the making of this music.

Honestly I just find the sounds of the phrase appealing.

Jazz Band at the Shiva. I think it was Wes Montgomery.

Doubling Down On A New year

So many times so many people talk in December on how they had such a bad 12 months and they can’t wait to start the new year. I have never logically understood how the turn of a calendar page magically brings about a fresh start. Yet I feel it too. And this year I am doubling down on a fresh start.

My life is OK (not the ideal description of one’s living status) but I am in a major funk. A funk is stronger than a rut and harder to pull out of.

At work, I continue the career path I began 32 years ago. Today there is not nearly enough change and far too few fascinating moments.  Worklife contains some good moments; meetings with my more interesting clients, thinking original thoughts and “getting it” sooner than my competitors and colleges, and teaching the “kids” new things — helping them grow. Yet there are far too many hassles. I am doing things that I learned to do 20 years ago and would be passed down to others if I had the right people with the right skills and attitudes. There are administrative hassles that suck the life force from me. I am a concept guy, a principles guy, a substance over form guy. I hate bad process that I cannot fix and that takes hours away from doing good and doing well.

At home, for as long as I can remember I have been too tired from work to experience great joy enough time away from it.  Within Homelife I am in a rut. I bike, I watch too much TV and spend far too quality time with my wife and grown son. (Too much of the time we are more like roommates than family.) There is the occasional play, some times with friends,  a trip to the health club but too many weekend days I am in a daze or zonked out on the couch.

Health-wise, all is good at 30,000 feet but that masks the aches and pains, hearing loss and forgetfulness. I know that some of this is normal for a 57 year old but I want better. Part of the doubling down is a health thing but let me come back to that.

Outside of the overall funk, 2013 contained a combination of the very good and the tragically sad. My wife and I had two too fun vacations, one in Florida in March and one in Yellowstone and the Tetons in August. My son graduated from college, has a job and is living with use for awhile. Admittedly I was concerned about that arrangement working well but it has succeeded my highest hopes mostly because of him. Between Davide being Davide and whatever influences my wife and I had on him he has grown up (as grown up as any 22 year old can be) into a young man that is at ease around others, a willing participant in keeping up the home in which he lives, hard working and he has developed a great group of friends. He is someone you want to be around.

Additional life positives include more frequent outings with friends, a strong summer of biking –including my 4th Century ride in the past 6 years, and a feeling as though I was able to help a couple of friends through some tough times. Being a good friend is a not insignificant portion of how I value my self worth.

The tragedy of the year was the death of my younger sister in October. Her illness was discovered late. There were a mere eight days between the time we first heard about her cancer and her death. Too much, too quickly, devastatingly sad. I was a guardian of this autistic woman who was unable to fend for herself. Intellectually I know that there was little more that I could have done for her. Her condition made medical tests requiring her to be still all but impossible. And yet I will carry the feeling that I let her and my Mom down by not doing more. Several friends have told me that I was a good brother to her. I am taking them at their word though how is one visit a month plus a few holidays enough? While this pain will carry into 2014 it is one reason that I will be glad to see 2013 end.

So what does all of this do with doubling down on a new year? Excellent question. I had almost forgotten the theme of this piece.

I will make no dramatic new year’s resolutions on how I am going to change what I do not like about my current life. I know myself too well to think that I can keep those promises. First, I lack the discipline. Second, I have contemplated my situation for years and if I had easy answers my life would be different by now. So I will start with baby steps.

Baby Step One. On Christmas Eve morning I had surgery on both feet. (yes 1000 people told me that both feet at the same time was risky. What if something went wrong and neither could bear weight? My response is that I lack time, including time off work, to heal so it was both now or never). If all goes well I will no longer feel a jolt of pain with every step I take, a condition that I have tolerated for years. I may even be able to run again. Part of the baby step is the surgery but the more important facet is no longer tolerating being OK with pain.

Baby Step Two. I am coming back to writing. When people ask me what I would do if I were not practicing my profession of 32 years the answer is always journalism, combining wrtiting, photography and travel. I believe that I have a somewhat unique view of the world. I have a love of faces and stories told through words or pictures. I am only committing to writing but will add photography classes as I can. The travel just requires time and money.

Baby Step Three. I am trusting a new investment advisor, my third after two failures. I would be much closer to being financially ready to leap from consulting to journalism if I had been a close to average investor over the course of my adult life. Not even close. Of course timing being what it is the transition and past bad practice puts too much of my portfolio in cash at a time that stock prices are at an all time high and bond prices are falling. It will take more than a few years for this to work out but at least I believe I will be getting better advice. Can’t be worse than myself or my last two well paid advisors.

Other than that I am working on being more conscious of how I spend my time and the words I say. Bring on 2014. I am as ready as I can be. Baby Steps.

 

 

No One To Blame But Me

16 days. Keep that time frame in mind. I will come back to that shortly.

I am often child like. But not in the good, imaginative, whimsical, joyful ways of a child.  When was the last time someone described me as whimsical? No, when I am childlike it is in the tired, crabby, it’s always someone else’s fault kind of way. Especially that latter part. I tend to not take charge of things and then get mad at the world as it passes me by.

No excuses now. I am a bachelor. My wife left.

It is not as if I never functioned alone. I am not one of those guys who went from their mother to their wife never having to cook, clean and generally take care of business. I was a bachelor until 38. Just because it is 17 years later does not mean that I do not have skills.  I have skills.

What I lack for the next 16 days are excuses. That is when she returns and until then my life is mine to manage, to improve, or further screw up.

Tonight is night #1 and I already broke two promises that I made to myself. First no overeating. I have to lose the same 15 pounds that I needed to lose last year at this time. I will look and feel better when I pull that one-off. Promise #2 was a limit of 1 hour of  TV a night. 2.5 hours including a totally useless hour of The Wild, Wild, West (how I used to love that show. Damn cable TV reruns.)

At least before the night ended I gained a modicum of control. I am writing again. That is good. Feels good.

I have a long list of my own to-dos and I know that somewhere on the fridge my spouse left me her list. One at a time.

Some goals. Download  Lightroom, get the forms sent in and to learn the basics of photo editing (at least how to download the 600 pictures sitting in my camera). Fix the new version of Out. Exercise 4 times a week. Stretch every day. Lose 5 of the 15 pounds through portion control and exchanging cookies for fruit. Go through the stacks of mail piled up in the office. Schedule the spin classes. These things alone are far more than what I get done in an average 2 weeks outside of work.

Tune in. See if I write every night as planned. Follow the adventures of Bachelor Man. Better than anything on prime time. I hope.

You Know Its Been Cold When…

…23 degrees seems tolerable.

The Year Of Flying Fabulously

This year United started a policy of filling every first class seat. I f a seat was not paid for they moved someone up from the cheap seats. It was a great year to have flown a ton the year before and achieve 1K status; their highest.

About 80% of my flights this year were in the relative luxury of first class. Ah, but all good things must come to an end.

Yesterday I flew my last United flight of the year…in first class of course. I flew once today and will fly twice next week but on rival carriers where I have no status. It’s over.

Even though I was on 71 United flights this year, I fall well short of the 100 needed for 1K. Next year they are raising the bar to 120. It will likely never happen again.

Timing is everything and I thank United for implementing this policy in a year where I had high status. Flying , going to and being at airports generally add up to large amounts of dead, useless and often painful time. Being in first class eased the strain.

It was a great year to fly.

BBRRRRR…

9 degrees when I arrived at work this morning. 10 degrees when I left. Snow, ice and strong winds.

What happened to summer?