'It's a different kind of cold'

All right, go ahead. You can say to me, "I told you so" or "You should have stayed" or "You can still come back, you know."

I'll admit it right here and now---I miss the Black Hills (at least the southern part of it). You can guess some of the reasons why, but you probably won't guess this one: It's because here where I am now I'm cold all the time.

Here in Vermillion where I can see Nebraska and from where I could be in Iowa in 15 minutes, if there were any reason to be, the snow and ice fell on the first weekend of December, and I've had the chills ever since. I just can't get warm, no matter how many layers of clothes I add.

Part of the blame could be the basement apartment where I spend much of my time wasn't intended, I suspect, for full-time human occupancy. There are a couple of heat vents down there, but they seem almost an afterthought. When I'm sitting at the table which serves as a desk, I plug in a space heater alongside, add a sweater over my daytime attire, and then put on a bathrobe. It's much the same when I head off to bed. I don't take off clothes---I add them and then persuade Oliver, my German shepherd, to snuggle in close once I get covered up. In the mornings when I step gingerly out of the shower stall, I set new records daily for getting into my clothes.

For respite I come back upstairs where my daughter and grandson are in residence. The year-old furnace works fine, and up here where I write on the computer it is comfortably warm. In fact, when they are away, I'm up here all the time.

But still the chill persists. I just can't get warmed up. It reminds me of one of those Wildcat football games in Custer a year ago last fall. I had on so many layers of clothes that one guy along the sidelines remarked that I had really "bulked up" since he saw me last.

The people here say "it's a different kind of cold." I don't know exactly what that means, but they are right.

Oh, I remember a couple of five-below-zero mornings in Custer last February, but it never seemed that cold. Here in Vermillion 15 above zero feels much colder than that. No one will ever mistake Clay County for the Banana Belt.

What I really need to reduce the chill in my aching old body is a couple bowls of homemade soup at the Custer Senior Center. Now that's what I really miss about your town!

Now excuse me for a moment while I grab another sweatshirt out of the dresser drawer.