As the weather continues to get warmer, every place I find myself knocks their AC up a notch or three. It’s funny, something we all consider so essential during the summer is still a novelty to me. I grew up living in a house and riding in cars that felt more like ovens. A/C was a luxury, and we weren’t partaking.
I don’t want to call my parents cheap because that’s insulting, but they were. At night they’d open all the windows, turn on ceiling fans in every room and just let the cool(er) night air blow through the house. When my mom got up in the morning she’d make the rounds, shutting windows and the back door in an effort to keep the house cool all day. Usually around noon all the cold air had escaped from our comings and goings. For the record, a brick house in direct sunlight does not self-refrigerate.
My dad’s beat up Honda hatchback and my mom’s silver minivan never had AC either, as far as I know. Actually, I think they both had it but my parents never turned it on. We were forever driving around with the windows down, holding cold water bottles against our chests on the hottest July days when we got stuck in traffic and there was no air movement.
Around the time I was seven a man rolled up in a Sears van, there to install one of those giant metal AC cooling units at the back of our house. I feel bad for that installer in retrospect, I must’ve spent all afternoon looking over his shoulder and asking questions. Yes, I was “that kid” that pestered repairmen, manual laborers, painters, plumbers… I was intrigued by any skill that could only be done with your hands. Several hours that felt like light years in kid-time later, the unit was installed.
Except my parents didn’t turn the damn thing on all summer, except during a three day super-heat wave. They installed a locked box over the thermostat, determined to keep my grubby little kid fingers from putting everything I read in the manual to use once they weren’t looking. I spent a lot of time sitting in front of industrial size box fans over the next few years, sure my parents were trying to kill me with every minute that our shiny new-ish A/C unit went unused. My parents kept a tight leash on A/C usage during the summer months for as long as I can remember. Even when my mom replaced her minivan, the windows had a tendency to get rolled down every time we mentioned it was hot outside. (She still does this, according to my brother.)
My exposure to the luxury of air conditioned living was limited to the houses of friends with rich parents and trips to Target or the grocery store. Every kid hates running errands with their parents, but I found some small good in it. The endless hours spent following my mom up and down the aisles was worth it for the two hour break from the heat. Of course I was all the more miserable once we started walking across the parking lot to her minivan, little wavy heat lines rising off the pavement as far as my tiny eyes could see. It’s amazing how many unnecessary trips I found myself convincing my mom to make and the number of kids I hated but hung out with all for the sake of air conditioning.
Was this a lesson from my parents? Possibly.
When they signed the paperwork on my first (used) car, they refused to help me get one with A/C. I spent many summer days embarrassed by the fact that the back of my shirt was soaked in sweat after driving to work. The only requirement I refused to budge on when I bought my car last summer was the AC, but I rarely turn it on. I roll down the windows, open the sunroof and sweat just as much on the black fabric seats of the Mazda as I did on the gray ones of my last car. Sure, I could turn it on but it kills my gas mileage and I feel disconnected from other miserable travelers with my windows up to trap in every last bit of cold air.
In realizing my own hesitance to take advantage of such a modern marvel, a small sense of pride swelled. I don’t need that cold air in my face in the middle of July, nor do I have to find a home that is centrally cooled. Just me and my box fan, all summer, forever…