Another week in weather paradise. The sunny, pleasant, humidity-free weather of Santa Barbara has essentially eliminated a typical source of material for The Weekly Letter. I thought nostalgically about previous residences:

Hanover, New Hampshire

“Spring? What’s that?” Mrs. Robinson, the neighbor, asked.

The Hague, The Netherlands

It was a dark, dank, dreary day of drudgery: Winter in The Netherlands. The temperature hovered at the freezing mark. Winds off the North Sea deposited beach sand sufficient to clog the storm sewer drains. Of course, I was not dismayed.

“The internet says that the sun rises late and sets early at this time of year,” I explained to Nazy.

“It rises?”

“Purportedly. I think it’s hard to pick it out through the heavy overcast.”

“It is gray outside, Dan. Everything is gray. The sky the drizzle, the wind everything is gray.”

“Do you think that there is a Dutch word for ‘sun’?” I asked.

Note: My friend Bert refreshingly insists that: “The Sun always shines in The Netherlands.”

Houston, Texas

It was Christmas Eve and I was outside racking leaves. Melika, aged 4, made an observation:

“It’s Christmas Eve, Daddy.”

“I know.”

“When’s it going to snow?”

“It’s never going to snow in Houston, Melika.”

“So - who decided to live here?”

“I’m working on it Melika,” I replied. “And don’t step on that giant tree limb - it’s a snake.”

“Daddy..”

“And walk around the fire ant nest. Don’t kick the roach hotel when you get to the house.”

Atlanta, Georgia (Pollen Season)

My Dad was in the hospital - pollen ignited his emphysema. It was, in fact, an annual occurrence. However, Dad seemed to be a bit down. I asked about it..

“Well, Dan. My mother died when she was 76. I’m 76 and I just keep thinking about that.”

Memphis, Tennessee

The high had exceeded 100°F (38°C) for 12 days in a row. The “low” temperature had exceeded 90° (32°C) for 12 days in a row. The ‘lawn’ was parched, but the sprinkler was working.

“I hope that the water doesn’t evaporate before it hits the ground,” I thought just as the doorbell rang.

I looked through the ‘peek hole’ and saw a vaguely familiar blond woman. “One of Nazy’s friends,” I thought as I opened the door. “Janet Morris. Action News 5,” the intruder shouted as a cameraman jumped out of the bushes. “Why are you watering your lawn?”

“It’s dry outside,” I replied.

“Did you know that there is a lawn-watering restriction in place?”

“No.”

“So what are you going to do now that you know?” Janet asked.

“I guess I’ll move the sprinkler to the backyard,” I replied.

Santa Barbara, California

The head of the home owners association was at the house. Nazy wanted action.

“There are Eucalyptus leaves and bark on the roof. You need to have someone clean that.”

“It’s no problem, it all washes off in the rain.”

“Rain?” Nazy asked. “We’ve been here six months. I’ve never seen rain.”

“That is a problem,” the man replied.


So, I can’t complain about the weather - which, now that I’m back, I really enjoy. I’ve also met a lot of people as a result of Nazy’s friend-making expertise - and her desire to schedule visits to the dentist, the barber and the physician. Many people in the last week or so get similar first impressions when they meet me. I asked Nazy for advice.

“They think I’m foreign,” I explained. “They ask me where I’m from. They say I have an accent.”

“You are asking me an accent question?” Nazy replied.

“They say I’m European.”

“Take off the beret.”

“Nazy!”

“Turn on your Southern drawl. Drop your Boston ‘r’. Pull your cowboy hat out of the closet. Wear some genes.”

“Jeans. I went to High School in New Jersey, Nazy.”

“You must sound like you learned English as a second language - after growing up in Kiev.”

“Kiev?”

“Or Krakow.”

“Vell, I don’t understehand, vat zehy are talkink about, mein liebschen. ”

“It would have been better if you tried the German when we lived in Zurich.”