Joe Kennedy

Joe Kennedy is routinely named the region's best writer by readers of The Roanoker magazine.

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No offense to Roanoke Valley dogs, but the dog days are here and it is so easy for some of us to take air conditioning for granted that we probably ought to stop and give thanks for it.

Then maybe we should contemplate what our lives would be like if, suddenly, AC became unavailable.

Scary thought, isn't it?

My daughter, who is on vacation in South Carolina, told me by phone on Monday that rumor had the temperature there reaching 110 degrees.

That struck me as an exaggeration, but when a 19-year-old girl who has the ocean and a pool at her disposal says she is hot, you know the conditions are extreme.

Things are bad, man.

A friend of mine recalled growing up in the country and not minding the heat. He started despising hot weather when he served in Vietnam, where it was continuous.

He can't stand days like these, and neither can I.

Driving downtown on Saturday, I looked at old houses that showed no signs of having air conditioning or that were equipped with aged, sagging window units.

Naturally, those houses brought back memories of growing up in humid Baltimore, when the only AC in our house came from a gigantic Carrier window unit in my parents' bedroom.

On the most stifling nights, they allowed my brother and me to drag in mattresses and sleep in their room.

Next to basking in a cool mountain breeze, it was the best childhood sleep I ever had.

Some people aren't so lucky.

Imagine life during a heat wave in the poor sections of Roanoke.

How long would it take us to adjust to those conditions?

How happy would we look as we sat on our porches and hoped for a breath of wind?

My friend's recollections of life on the farm notwithstanding, most of us don't get used to hot weather, ever.

It feels worse as we age.

When I was young, window fans provided some relief.

Attic fans were a gift from God.

When my own family and I lived in Catawba, we sweltered during the hottest days, but the attic fan swirled the cool night air through our old house and had us scrambling for blankets by 3 a.m.

Now, my suburban house gets too cold on its lower level -- frigid, in fact.

I often watch ballgames from beneath a quilt.

That may sound like the ultimate luxury, but I yearn for the return of fall, when temperatures refresh rather than exhaust us, when it's possible to sleep with the bedroom windows open and when, in one respect, at least, all God's children are equally comfortable.