Attention professional weather prognosticators, TV meteorologists, National Hurricane Center forecasters and anyone whose number one conversation topic involves current and future atmospheric conditions. Yes, that includes this nation’s grandpas.
Put away your topographic maps and disconnect your flashy “storm tracker” computer modules; your interactive radar and satellite imagery are no longer needed. The local news weather segment can officially be reduced to 10 seconds as opposed to the four minutes weatherpersons currently need to inform the viewing audience that “today, you may want an umbrella.”
You see, I have developed a completely unscientific yet foolproof method of foretelling exterior conditions: a technique more accurate than Aunt Shirley’s rheumatism or the CNN “Blizzardmobile.” The latter, incidentally was pressed into service during the 2015 New York City “Needless Snow Panic” and will haunt anchor/Blizzardmobile passenger Don Lemon’s credibility forever, even if he scores an exclusive interview with the head of a covert Chinese hacking ring.
LEMON: Are you the person responsible for stealing personal information from 4 million U.S. government employees?
HACKER: Are you the guy who drove around in the Blizzardmobile?
LEMON: Yes, but…
HACKER: Ha ha ha ha.
Here’s my secret: Before venturing outside each morning, simply call my cell and ask me if I’m planning an outdoor party that day. If I respond in the affirmative, retreat inside, board up your windows, and consider taking refuge in an underground shelter. It’s gonna get nasty.
I have lived in my Chicago home for 12 years but am most proud of what’s on the outside. In my humble opinion, my backyard is a combination outdoor man cave/Better Homes and Garden photo op. I have a deluxe gas grill, a fireplace, an island that can easily seat 12, and speakers capable of blasting tunes from any number of online radio stations, which I easily control from my iPhone. The only thing lacking are people to enjoy it for, every time I plan an outdoor get-together, they remain huddled inside, gazing at Mother Nature’s wrath.
My daughter has attended two high school “spring” proms, yet has never taken an outdoor picture as both events were curtailed by rain and, in the case of her junior year, snow flurries. My wife’s surprise 50th birthday, held in late April when flowers are supposed to be blooming and warm temperatures arriving, was a balmy 38 degrees. The more guests I invite, the worse the weather. I have already told both daughters that, if they desire outdoor weddings, the attendees will consist of a justice of the peace and one witness. Increasing the guest list will cause a rapid rise in flood waters.
Six months ago, we set June 7 as my daughter’s high school graduation party date. “Just one nice day is all I want,” my wife said.
“Foolish woman,” I thought. “Does she not know our track record?”
Ten days before the party, she downloaded numerous weather apps and updated me on the “extended outlook,” a complete waste of time unless one lives in Arizona where the daily forecast between May and September never strays from “sunny with highs in the mid 100s.”
“It’s supposed to be clear and 75,” she exclaimed proudly. “We might need extra patio seating.”
I refused to share her zeal, for I knew that predicting weather 10 days out in Chicago was as accurate as stating in March that the Cubs were a potential World Series contender. Sure enough, by June 4, storm cloud icons had replaced the brilliant sunshine on her phone. The next day, lightning bolts joined the mix. The descriptive forecast for party day included the following phrases: “strong thunderstorms,” “severe weather possibility” and, the coup de grace, “chance of hail.”
On June 7 we indeed awoke to thunderstorms pelting our rented backyard tent. We hastily moved chairs, tables and hors d’oeuvres to the garage, which seats 30 comfortably. Thirty-one if you include my lawn mower. The rain subsided long enough to return everything to the backyard, but storms were never far away and soaked the remaining guests later that evening. The Weather Channel app showed clear skies with no sign of precipitation.
The next day, under brilliant sunshine, I cleaned up grad party remnants and began planning a Fourth of July barbecue.
To anybody else hosting a party that day, just remember: It’s going to be wet.
