The Driest Summer Ever
By Margery McCurdy Plummer

Remember oscillating fans, ceiling fans (mostly in stores) cardboard fans that you found in church pews advertising funeral homes and other business or events the old White House Pharmacy one that everyone has. Fan Fair, Watertown Jazz Festival, Political ones, and many others, some ordinary and some extraordinary? I have quite a few of these fans, ones collected along the way but not a real hobby.

Of all the fans I have I treasure one I found at Second Grove Methodist church I saw this fan, beautiful in a worn condition. There were 12 African American women in pastel colored robes, each holding a candle. This fan was furnished by Serenity Funeral Home in Springfield and had printed the Serenity Prayer on the back. Imperfect as it was, I wanted that fan. I don’t steal, but I did. I knew I was stealing because as I left the church, I held it almost under my coat. I had taken something that didn’t belong to me, and the guilt set in before I got to the car.

I knew that the church members wouldn’t mind if I had it in that condition, but that didn’t help. It wasn’t mine. I knew a woman who belonged to that church and offered to pay for it. She wouldn’t take it, but later she brought me a “like new” fan. I gave her a sizeable contribution for her church. We both came out ahead. I had my beautiful fan, and she took a little extra contribution for her church, which eased my conscience somewhat.

This thinking of fans was prompted by the hot weather we’ve been having for several weeks. One Friday afternoon I stepped outside and was enveloped by the most intense natural heat I had ever experienced. I later learned that the temperature was 104 degrees that day.

The landscape surrounding our house was surreal. Not a person could be seen and few cars, and I noticed that there were no cars in the student parking lot. I learned that they were out because of the heat. Not a snow day but a heat day.

Our lawn, usually green and well cared for was brown straw, and only a few hardy zinnias and tall sun flowers had survived. Would it ever rain?

I looked at the TV weather channel several times a day and talked with friends about the hottest season we’d ever endured.

Finally, somewhere near the end of August we were blessed with a light rain, the next night a heavier one.

“At last it’s rained!” we shouted. “The drought has ended.” It’s just human nature, I suppose, that once a wish is granted, in many minds, it falls just a little short of that desired. To the great joy I hard was added by many people. “It’s good, but we could sure use more to really soak the ground.” It seems the best is never enough!