The Heat is On
In case you haven’t noticed, it’s HOT!
We’re fortunate In this day and age. We can expect to be greeted by a blast of cool — if not downright frigid — air pretty much any time we enter a building on a blazing hot summer day.
That, however, has only come about during my lifetime.
When I was a kid, some homes and businesses had air conditioning, but quite a few still didn’t. We didn’t get it in our house until Dad woke up one night and found me sleeping — or rather trying to sleep — on the dining room floor.
Just imagine what life used to be like before air conditioning existed. Better yet, let me take you back to the summer of 1881, one of the hottest summers this area has ever experienced.
The July 15, 1881 Republican-Ledger noted that a local thermometer had reached 102 degrees on July 9th and 10th. The next day it was 104 degrees . . . in the shade!
Some smart aleck at the paper wrote, “Tell every fellow you see it is hot, so he will know it; otherwise he might not ascertain that fact.” (Yeah, right.)
It was nearly impossible to eat, sleep or work, especially in cities, where the heat was amplified by buildings and pavement.
Cases of heat prostration and sunstroke were reported all over the country. While I didn’t see any deaths attributed to sunstroke here during that period in July, there were plenty elsewhere. Cincinnati officially recorded 414 deaths due to the oppressive heat between July 10th and 16th.
A wave of unspecified illnesses hit various parts of Noblesville, prompting the Ledger to predict that, if the city’s streets, alleys and yards weren’t cleaned up, many deaths would soon follow. (Imagine the germs that must have been cooking in that sweltering weather.)
Curiously, I ran across no advice about staying hydrated. On the contrary, an article in the Ledger warned against the extensive use of water and pronounced drinking ice water during the hot spell as “altogether injurious and dangerous.”
Soda fountains and ice cream parlors were kept busy, but barrooms were empty because no one felt safe drinking anything stronger than lemonade. As a result, lemons were in such high demand that prices shot up. Sometimes they weren’t even available.
A number of young men “and even persons of mature years” resorted to bathing in White River to beat the heat. Apparently, the paper really meant bathing and not swimming, because a lot of people complained about the (ahem) show.
The Ledger quoted a section of Indiana law dealing with indecent exposure and warned those “large enough to know right from wrong” that they could be arrested and fined for cooling off in public.
Sleep was elusive. People tried to get it any way they could — in bed or on the floor inside their home, or outdoors in a hammock, on a veranda or on a rooftop.
Sleeping outdoors carried some risks, however. One young man managed to roll off his roof while he was asleep. The paper observed that the fellow “did not care for the fall, but regreted [sic] the disturbance of the cat serenade.”
You could also end up providing a banquet for “that vile destroyer of sleep, the impolite mosquito,” of which there were plenty.
The firefly display would have been impressive, though.
That brings me to a request from Jeanne Flanders that I appeal to people to turn off their dusk to dawn lights so they can enjoy the fireflies’ nightly “light shows.”
Fireflies, aka lightning bugs, have all but disappeared from our backyards thanks to pesticides, loss of habitat and yes, light pollution. (The lights interfere with their mating habits.)
Help save these fascinating insects for future generations. Visit the Firefly Conservation & Research website, www.firefly.org, for information.
Paula Dunn’s From Time to Thyme column appears on Wednesdays in The Times. Contact her at younggardenerfriend@gmail.com