When I was growing up, we didn’t have central air conditioning. It just wasn’t as prevalent as it is nowadays, but we (or at least I) never gave it much thought. When summer rolled around, we relied on open windows to let the breeze blow through the house, spent evenings sitting on the front porch (if the mosquitos weren’t too bad) and used an 18” square box fan to cool us down when things got uncomfortable.
Funny thing, back then I never gave air conditioning a second thought, and really never wished we had it or thought we were “missing out.” I guess you don’t miss what you never had, right? But now that our family home has central air, when the temperature and humidity get to a certain level of “uncomfortability,” we shut the windows and crank it up (within reason, of course).
For me, it’s an ongoing game as to when we should let Nature do its thing or artificially cool the house. When possible, I like to keep things open (call me an old romantic), though I realize it’s not always in our best interest. Lately, we’ve had some “in between” days where we’re on the fence as to whether to close up the house and force in the cool air or “kick it old school.”
The weekend provided just such a situation, and on Saturday evening, as I was watching a ballgame on TV, I was on the edge of feeling uncomfortable. Tempted to turn on the air conditioning, I instead thought to myself, “This is a perfect night for the fan.”
I knew we had one, but I wasn’t sure where we kept it. So, I hunted around, and after a few minutes, found it tucked into a corner of the basement between some shelves stocked with all sorts of miscellaneous stuff. (You likely have the same shelves and some of the same “stuff.”) Missing its handle, I did my best to tuck it under my arm and brought it upstairs, where I spent a few minutes strategically positioning it for maximum cooling effect.
Satisfied with its initial placement, I set it to “low” so I wouldn’t have to crank the TV volume and went back to watching the ballgame. After a minute or two, I realized it wasn’t quite achieving the impact I wanted, so I moved it closer to where I was sitting, and that did the trick.
For the next couple of hours, that simple box fan (which from a design, construction and technology perspective was almost identical to the one my folks had 50 years ago) offered just enough comfort to allow me to keep the windows open that night, and life was good.
But more than its utility, it brought back so many memories for me. It took me back to those summer nights, playing baseball or kick the can, and then coming home hot and sweaty and plopping down on the living room floor in front of the fan as my mom and dad watched Kojak or The Rockford Files.
When they weren’t around, it could also be a source of fun as I talked into it to hear how the moving blades changed my voice. Or using it to slice a carrot or dare my friends to try and stop the plastic blades with their fingers. (Don’t tell me you didn’t try that at least once; we got good at it.)
And that led me to thinking about all the other things–things not remotely related to the fan–that marked the summers of my childhood: riding bikes to get ice cream for just for fun, learning to skateboard, playing with neighborhood friends in their yards or ours, sleepovers with my best friend/cousin Mike, and so many more.
Life was simple for me then, but I guess that’s always how it is; things get more complicated as we grow older. That’s probably why we like to reminisce, and why the most benign, common items can spur such strong memories.
And that simple fan provided comfort for us back then, without lots of complicated dials or settings. It was just what we needed, when we needed it.
And Saturday night, the fan was just what I needed, to provide physical comfort but also to take me back to my childhood and all those wonderful memories I have.
© 2024 David R. Haznaw
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