By Kathy Hughes

Contributing Writer

Robert Frost wrote a poem with the title,”Fire and Ice,” but why ‘and?’ It seems to me that, relative to the end of the world, as the poem suggests, it should be a case of fire ‘or’ ice. Poetic license, I guess.

It is contest of opposites, either the sun explodes (or we crash into it), we experience a fiery end colliding with an asteroid; or, the sun burns out, and we are left to freeze in outer space. There must be several scenarios.

My “fire or ice” issues have to do not with with the end of the world, but with my car versus the extremes of Syracuse weather. Our very bad winter of three years ago, when temperatures were single digits or below for weeks, left me housebound for weeks. If I didn’t absolutely have to go out, I didn’t — only running out of cat food drove me out into the cold, wrapped in hat, scarf, mittens and boots to sit behind the wheel.

Somehow the cold inside the car seems worse than the outside, unless there is some wind to escape from. First, the door handle is probably frozen, and I feel the ice through my mittens. Next I slide onto the seat, which is a block of ice, then I numbly grasp the steering wheel. It will be miles before the car’s heater kicks in: do I try to speed up the coming of heat by turning up the fan full blast? If so, I will be subjected to temperatures with wind chill measured in degrees Kelvin — has anyone ever measured temperature inside a car with the fan turned up full blast?

Before going on, and I am judged to be a sissy, I need to explain something. I am retired. For decades, like many of you, I risked my life going to and from work in the winter. I commuted to Oswego for a time. Frequently, in other employ, I had to work on Saturday or Sunday, when, shall we say snow removal was done casually, and my trip to work involved, first, digging my car out of the driveway, then proceeding to drive through snow up to the hubcaps. Just about the time I arrived at work, the heat would come on in the car. That’s the story of ice.

Let me again emphasize, I am retired. If I don’t need to be anywhere, I can decide to stay home, thereby lessening the chance that I will either die in an accident, or cause an accident which could kill someone else.

Now, having survived last winter and confronting the next one, I regret to acknowledge the summer has not been a good one. This summer season has been characterized by nearly unrelenting heat. Is it global warming? Whatever, usually our summer heat waves are broken up by at least equal periods of moderate temperatures. Surely, the temperature has even hit 100 degrees in summers past, and those Bermuda highs hang around for a week or so; but not the weeks on end of ninety and near ninety temperatures.

It is the fire this time. Should I leave my air conditioned apartment to expose myself to deadly UV rays, to touch and enter a car where the air cannot be breathed, it is so hot? Bare skin contacting the seat or steering wheel, can blister. Now, there is AC — however, it won’t cool off the car for five minutes or more. Opening the windows is like the Santa Ana winds in California.

In conclusion, I find it doesn’t matter — fire or ice, you’re dead either way. Thank goodness I am retired. In case you would like to review Frost’s poem, “Fire and Ice,” here it is:

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.