What Might Be

A comedian once said that meteorologists have the only job where you can be:

evasive:

There's probably maybe kind of sort of about a 50% chance of rain

ambiguous:

We'll have 2 to 12 inches of snow...

and wrong:

Looks like the storm we've been anticipating just missed us...

and still keep your job.

I should've been a meteorologist.

But this isn't a time for ruing over unfulfilled wishes. The weather guys and girls are predicting a Mini Ice Age.

Shouldn't come as a shock. I grew up here, it's just winter in the Midwest. But despite that, I still had my undies in a bundle with the incessant cold-weather-warning harping. In fact, I got depressed. Starting wishing we had deeper pockets so we could flee to someplace warm; and then seriously considered going into debt so we could do it. Finally, I decided that neither wishing nor being buried under a stack of bills were viable options, so I did the next best thing: perused warm-weather vacation pics from years past.

All that did was depress me more.

And that's when the lightbulb went on: I was sad, anxious about wrangling childcare (because school's already been cancelled) and dreading -- dreading -- dragging my sorry-snow-slush-cold-frostbite-hating rear end through the weather...

all because of

a prediction of

what might be.

Seriously, even with satellites, dopplers, radar and other gadgetry, nature could still throw a curve and once again, the weather guys and girls would be

wrong.

Now, it's pretty silly to get worked up over what could be a faulty weather forecast, isn't it? Especially when you consider how we'd respond if we could get accurate forecasts of:

The day your water heater would bust; or,

The day your dream job would come knocking on your door; or,

The day and the moment when your doctor would deliver a frightening diagnosis.

My guess is that a lot would change. Spending habits would tighten so the Cadillac of water heaters could replace the busted one. Offices would be cleaned and filing tackled so an organized exit could be made when the Lotta Bucks position opened up in greener pastures.

But how would any of us prepare for news about failing health? Or news that there may be more years behind us than there are ahead?

I think there would be a lot of I'm sorries delivered along with long overdue I love yous.

Less working and more hand holding.

More face time and less screen time.

Idle chatter swapped out for real conversation.

Breathing, seeing, inhaling, feeling -- being -- in the moment, in lieu of rehashing yesterday and projecting into tomorrow's what-ifs.

Look at everything through that lens and I think: sure, we've got a little -- no make that a lot -- of cold coming our way. Or not. But why hand-wring over what may be an inaccurate forecast when I'm not hand-wringing over the other meatier, heavy issues that may be in the future for myself or any one of us?

Because there's no doppler or radar or gadgetry for that stuff, that's why.

That other stuff just happens, and we don't know when it's going to happen, so we live our lives day to day, planning (a little) for down the road and hopefully enjoying the given moments and the people in them.

I think that's the way it should be, even when it comes to a Mini Ice Age.

...and in meteorologist lingo, there's a 99% chance I'm right about that.

These guys are playing in it tomorrow, so GO PACK!
...and stay warm out there. It's a Mini Ice Age, you know.