This is a story I wrote years ago and well worth repeating.  Yesterday was the hottest day so far and summer has barely begun. 

MAMA AND THE AIR CONDITIONER

“Pick your battles, she muttered to herself.”                                                                

 So here it was, the beginning of July in the middle 1950's and it was hot.  So hot that mama kept mumbling, “Springs sprung, Fall's fell, Summer's here and it's hotter than hell.”  

We were miserable. The heat that summer was unbearable.  We had been in our new house out in the country for only a couple of years.  “It's cooler in the country, you know,” daddy said when we built this ranch style house.  “Yet, we are still hot,” mama said.  “You'll get used to it,” daddy said.  Mama didn't.  “It’s designed to catch cross breezes,” he said.  She disagreed.

 She asked for ceiling fans.  “Too expensive to have all those fans,” daddy replied.  “Besides, there are still things that have not been finished yet, like the barn being built, or the dog pen for my hunting dogs.  I don't even have a decent place to fatten a hog.   Remember, we have lots of windows opposite each other and tons of air circulation.  Open them all up.  You'll be all right.”    

Mama huffed from the room saying under her breath, “The wind doesn't always seem to favor blowing all the time for our pleasure, you old skinflint.  We are hot, you miserable old tightwad.”   Mama was more determined than ever to be cooler. 

 The next week, while daddy was in Baton Rouge taking care of state business as a state Representative, she researched air conditioners for the windows.  She had men come out and measure and quote prices, carefully writing down all the details and different estimates.  She presented them to daddy when he returned.  Taking one look at them he said, “Are you kidding?  That is too expensive.”  This really made mama hot.  No, mama didn't “glow” like all true southern women.  Nor was she the type of hot where you sweat buckets.   She was so hot her blood boil.

 To everyone else, life seemed to be fine for the Blairs.   Daddy had been elected to the State House of Representatives and making a life for himself.    Even his business, Blair's Pest Control, was going well.   He didn't need air conditioning at the house, he had it at his office, and he wasn't home that much anymore since he spent a great deal of time at the state capital which had air conditioning.  When he was home, he was outdoors on his tractor, planting or harvesting the cotton and corn we grew on what is now Mohon Street and Brame Junior High School in Alexandria, Louisiana.  And if he wasn't there then he was out playing politician.  We were the ones who had to suffer!                                     

 Meanwhile, mama stopped cooking steaks and big meals using the oven thinking that would make him change his mind.  No, he began to eat at Effie's Restaurant, a favorite gathering place for politicians in Alexandria. He had meals with his cronies, while we ate peanut butter sandwiches.  Nothing seemed to work.  Mama was at her wits end.

 Mama let daddy know that the barn wasn't being built; the dogs didn’t have their improved dog pen, and the hogs shared the barn lot with the cows.  Yet, daddy continued finding ways to not get things done.  He was too busy, politicking, or hunting or fishing with school board presidents or influential people in his district.  At least those were his excuses. 

  Mama just got madder. 

 One day, in early August, daddy came home with a brand-new bass boat, the latest model.  It had all the bells and whistles, wonderful motor.  Everything a fine fisherman needed to enjoy on his days off.

 

Mama hit the ceiling but held her tongue.

 Two weeks later, the legislative session began, and daddy left for Baton Rouge.  The first thing mama did was call the dealer that gave the most expensive quote and ordered air conditioners.  She told them to install window units in all three bedrooms, the dining room and living room as well as the laundry room and to send the bill to Blair's Pest Control where it would be paid promptly.  “Oh, and please write at the top of the ticket, in bold letters, 'Thanks for the bass boat.'  We love it,” she told them.  They did.

 
Daddy never said another word and we no longer had to wring our sheets out every morning after waking.  I think my daddy learned a lesson that day.

 This was the day Daddy learned to never underestimate the power of a hot, mad woman.  Life was finally cool for all the Blairs.

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