You Can Kiss Those Frozen Ponds Goodbye, and That’s Not All

When I was a kid in south-central Pennsylvania, we skated every winter. On ponds. If you want to skate in central Indiana today (nearly an identical climate to south-central Pennsylvania), you have to go to The Ice at Center Green, a refrigerated outdoor rink in Carmel, just a short walk from our house.

I mention this because we’re about to get blasted by a mass of frigid Arctic air. The high tomorrow is forecasted to be below zero.

Our ignoramus president has already cited the plunging Midwest temperatures as proof that global warming is a farce. I wish people weren’t sucked into his vortex of stupidity, but it seems many are. Oh, well, I suppose humans have always been evidence-resistant.

The evidence, of course, is compelling. The planet is warming. One can debate to what extent this warming is caused by human activity. But you can’t contend the climate hasn’t changed . . . unless you’re living in your Trump bubble, that is.

Some people say we’re now living in a post-truth era. Everyone gets to make up their own reality. There isn’t anything that’s universally accepted as being true. Everything that opposes your view can be dismissed as fake.

That may be the case. It certainly seems that way at times.

Meanwhile, I notice that you can’t go out on the ponds around here. I can see that the ice around the edges is razor thin.

I can also read that, from 1950 to 2000, there were 45 days with actual temperatures below -35 degrees Fahrenheit in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and that this century, there have only been two.

So it’s up to me, whether I want to fabricate my own reality or at least try to observe as much of reality as is possible for us humans to discern.

At first blush, this seems ridiculous, for don’t all of us think we’re seeing and interacting with reality?

I suppose we do. And that’s one of the biggest illusions of all.

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