It was projected to be so cold this past Tuesday that Baldwin County Schools announced a closure on Monday as I was writing this column. Not the column you are reading, that one will have to wait. The subject of cold weather in the south is too good to pass up.

This past Monday, when I checked the weather and compared it to where the rest of my children are, Fairhope was two degrees colder at 31 than was Anchorage, Alaska, and we were closing school because it is going to be cold ... only in the south. I asked myself, tongue in cheek, “What do they do when it gets really cold here?” The answer came back, “This is really cold.” I guess cold, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder or on the exposed skin of the idiot who goes to school in a T-shirt and shorts; regulation uniform, of course.

I will admit that since diabetes destroyed the nerves in my hands and feet, anything below 40 is too much for me. Whenever cold like this happens here, I am convinced I am still living too far north. If we were on the boat, we would be headed to warmer climes. That is not true. You cannot outrun weather and I promise you there isn’t much colder on this earth than to be at sea in a sailboat with temperatures in the 30s, much less the teens.

The last camp out I was on in Alaska with Boy Scouts, the temperature got to -40. That is cold with three capital Cs due to the teeth chattering. We had planned for it and were equipped well, so although a milestone that all of us will remember, it wasn’t a big deal. We survived it with no injuries or illnesses and to this day, have bragging rights, as this paragraph will attest.

Contrast that to a Scout Winter Camp held in Louisiana many years ago between Christmas and New Year’s Eve where the temperature got into the teens and stayed there for the entire five days of camp. That was cold. Although only in the teens, it is hard to endure when no one has a sleeping bag rated for much colder temperatures than 40. Clothing is another matter. Most boys in the south have only one or two long-sleeved shirts and are looked at funny when they wear one, so being well prepared was a hit or miss thing. As their fearless and numb-between-the-ears leader, I did my best to make sure they understood the principle of layering, how to stay dry, and to sleep warm.

After the first night, all the water in camp froze except in the mess hall where other troops began to spend their days and nights. We did not, and were the only troop to not leave early and to spend all nights of camp outdoors. That last morning, we strutted our stuff as we waited for the usual flag ceremony outside the mess hall before breakfast. It did not happen and someone had to brave the cold to come out and get us to come in. By now, we were so acclimated to the cold, or maybe numb to it, that we strolled into the mess hall bare headed with our coats unzipped. We were the baddest of the bad and the swagger was to be envied. We had a saying at that camp. When someone asked any of us if it was cold, the answer was, “It’s just right.” There isn’t a thing you can do about it, so it might as well be just right.

I have taken great joy in posting and emailing about this school closure to my friends and family north of here. It isn’t cold to them, but again, cold is in the eye of the beholder. By the way, I do not plan on going out in this weather. I am southernized.

David Wilson Atwood is a local writer whose human-interest columns offer a unique perspective. He may be contacted at: www.starchasers.us.