It’s hot. Perhaps you’ve noticed.
When we lived in Lake Havasu City, Ariz., I didn’t mind the heat. And we’re talking 115-125 degrees. The national nightly news often cited nearby Blythe, Calif., as the hottest place the nation. We were usually hotter in Lake Havasu City, but in those days we lacked an official weather station. So we didn’t count.
I was a teenager back then, which may account for my imperviousness to the heat. Plus, it just meant we took a jaunt to the lake or found a swimming pool. I spent a lot of my teenagerdom in the water, and I miss it. We had youth group outings on the lake all the time. The piano in my house was once in the back of a pickup truck on the beach in Lake Havasu City.
In California, I played tennis on two conference championship teams. My junior year, in the first round of the San Juaquin Valley championships, I played three matches one afternoon in 115 degree heat. Ate an orange between matches, drank plenty of water, and won two out of three (doubles matches) so we could advance to the next round.
Yessiree, I’m quite the macho man.
