People of Earth! Wishing you a Happy New Year!

We’re either getting bigger, or Shrinkflation has gotten way out of hand.

Is July too hot to handle?

I don’t love waking up at 6 a.m. to enjoy the cool 78° temps in California’s San Joaquin Valley. When I first moved to the Valley (Hanford) in the late 1970s, the locals were proud about being able to go out at midnight to enjoy their backyard.

“You can't do that in LA,” they said. “You’ll love it!”

Maybe. In LA, you often needed a sweater after 7 p.m., but we didn’t need refrigerated air in Altadena, and I could enjoy our backyard at 5 in the afternoon. That could explain why we didn’t go to the movies much when I was a kid.

My son, Alexander, was born in an air-conditioned hospital in Hanford, California, on July 3, 1981. The outside temperature was only 98°. It was only 100° when he and his mother came home from the hospital to our swamp-cooled home on Elm Street. The temperature stayed above 95° most of the month, hitting 100 or more thrice. The overnight temperatures always dropped into the 60s.

The hurricane-force winds of the swamp cooler blew moist and marginally cooler air around our tiny house. You had to keep one window open to let the air out. Our swamp cooler was just above our desk, blowing our bills and other paperwork around the house. The good ol’ days. But we survived 95°, which is a mere inconvenience if it’s dry heat.

The water was a bit chilly, but the beach was warm in Cayucus, CA. Morro Rock and Bay are in the background.

I have a photo of baby Alex with his hand over his eyes as if to say, “What did I do to deserve this?” Little did he know that even he was experiencing the good old days and the July heat would worsen over the next 40 years.

In July 2021, Alex’s 40th birthday, the temperatures topped 100° 28 times in Hanford, with a high temperature of 112° two days in a row, July 10 and 11.

Last year, 2023, the temperatures in Hanford hit 100° or more 26 times, topping out at 109° three times.

In 2024, The Fresno Bee reported that July was the hottest on record for Fresno. Oddly enough, Hanford recorded only its second-hottest July just 40 miles away with a mean average temperature of 87.6° and 26 days at 100° or warmer, with two records set at 113°. The hottest July for Hanford was recorded in 1931, with a mean average temperature of 87.8°, in case you’re wondering.

Neither Alex, me, nor his mother live in Hanford these days. Still, the July temperatures set the stage for birthday celebrations inside movie theaters, bowling alleys, waterparks, and spots along the central coast of California, such as Cayucos, Avila Beach, and Morro Bay. Oddly, Pismo rarely figured into our retreats. Too hot?

Reminiscing thoughts inspired by a Facebook post

When I was six, we lived on Leonard Ave. in an area of Pasadena called Hastings Ranch. It was a relatively steep area in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains where rocket scientists from JPL (NASA) and Cal Tech congregated.

The trail to kindergarten.

Not being one of them, I walked to my kindergarten class at Don Benito Elementary School. It was an uphill slog through earthquakes, blizzards, raging grass fires, and worse.  

I remember a few things from my time at Don Benito:

1.  My phone number was Elgin 5-2622.

2.  Never cut your own hair. A classmate had demonstrated his skill, and I guess his parents sent him to school anyway as punishment. He looked like a fuzzy bowling ball with a few unnecessary holes. I learned from his lesson and applied it to dentistry.

3.   Dog biscuits and a handful of fresh green beans make a great snack, a lesson learned at a friend’s house at about the halfway point of my hike. I was surprised that my mom seemed okay with that. In college, a roommate cooked canned dog food in our apartment, having read a report that people were doing it to save money. For the record: Don’t. And what’s with rocket scientists?

We lived next door to the Andersons. Mr. Anderson worked on the brakes of the ill-fated XB-70 bomber. Mrs. Anderson was a stay-at-home mom (still a thing at the time) until their divorce. Their children were Marta and Dana, and another child too young for me to remember clearly.

Marta and I shared a first kiss in their garage. I know it was mine, anyway.

Her brother Dana was well-remembered for steering his dad’s car out of the driveway and down the hill into a parked car, which brings me to the Facebook post. If only he had a Playmobile. Or, maybe he did.