Wintertime blues

"What do you mean, you're cold? You're a Yankee, you should be used to this."

OK, OK. Let's get this straight right from the top. Yes, I am a native-born Pennsylvanian. I also lived for a time in New Hampshire, and for another spell in Connecticut. So, yes, I have an idea of what it's like to be snowbound, windblown and ice-sculpted.

But the last time I saw a real Yankee snow was in 1976. That was the year I moved — permanently, as it turned out — to Lexington. One of the reasons I made that move, besides running away from a broken heart, was the weather. North Carolina offered substantially fewer snow days than Yankeeland. So who in their right mind would not make that move?

It worked well for a couple years. Sure, there was some snow in Tarheelia — I distinctly remember driving to the ACC Tournament in Greensboro one March day in a snowstorm, but that was merely a distraction.

About 20 years ago, however, it seemed as though something changed. Instead of snow on a regular basis, we started getting ice. And/or sleet. It looked like snow when it fell, lulling us into a sense of Christmas all season long, but it landed on the ground as a crunchy sheen. Maybe we can blame that phenomenon on global warming, or global cooling or global something.

The icing on our frosting, at least to my mind, implies colder temperatures for this effect to happen

I've been in North Carolina for nearly 40 years now. For the most part, it's been an incredible experience and moving here is one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life.

So let me tell you right now, it doesn't matter from what part of the country you come, cold is cold. And you never get used to it.