Okay,
so where is Spring? As I am starting to write this article on Monday,
the temperature is in the 30's . I thought it was supposed to be
spring? We had some very nice teases there over the last couple of
weeks.

We hit the bike trail and peddled to Spy pond in
Arlington. The playground was packed, and we heard the words "good job"
over and over from affirming parents. Little Johnny actually found his
mouth with a granola bar! But these little spurts of warm weather is
like dangling a dog biscuit in front of a pup. And who can you complain
to? Each other, that's all. I'm tired of telling my kids to zip up
their sweatshirts, or to put their coats on. The crocuses have croaked
– so why am I still freezing my butt off?

Again, who can you
complain to? Shelby Scott? Don Kent? Dick Albert just retired, so count
him out. We did our time this winter for sure. It was like the movie
Groundhog Day. As soon as we cleared one snow storm away, another one
came. You couldn't keep enough rock salt and snow melt on hand. I want
to wear my spring Red Sox jackets. My gas bill was the highest it's
been ever. I am not on that budget plan but I made my own plan. I send
them what I can each month, and they can like it or lump it.

We want warm weather. We are ready for warm weather. We deserve warm weather. This winter is like a pimple that won't go away.

When
we have nice day, I open a few windows to get the smell of dog out.
Then the next morning I am sitting watching TV, drinking my morning
coffee shivering from the arctic blast coming from the open window I
forgot to close.

The kids don't care if it's still cold out.
They took off for Davis Square Saturday with just sweatshirts on. The
kids can take it, I can't. Now I know why people work hard their whole
lives and so that they can spend winters in Florida.

When we
were kids weather didn't seem to bother us. We would go outside if was
raining, snowing or if there was a monsoon. God forbid we stayed in the
house. For crying out loud, what fun was that? Who the heck wanted to
get up and go over to the TV every time you wanted to change the
channel? Either that or you could watch Candlepins For Cash with your
dad. My mother always used to ask me "where are you going?" And I'd say
something like "I'm going over to (unintelligible mumble)'s." She knew
it was baloney because no parent wanted 12 teenagers in their house
listening to Led Zeppelin. We only did that when they weren't home.

We
would go hang around at the corner of Bay State and Kidder for hours,
under the tree that isn't there anymore and lean up against Teddy
Bates' fence. He doesn't live there anymore either. If Ted's dad went
out, we went in! Sometimes,there would be about 20 of us just hanging
around. I guess back then our long hair helped keep us warm. The day my
parents drove by on their way home from church and surprised me I had
something else to supply a little heat. I had to stick a lit butt in my
pocket until they finished their little visit and drove off. That
warmed me up a little. We had no cell phones or Ipods either.

When
we spoke, we spoke to each other face to face . If we were going to be
late we had to go to a store and use a dime to call home. We wore army
surplus green army jackets or blue navy pea coats. Our hands stayed in
our pockets. Some of us conned our parents into buying us a leather
jacket. I got one and loved it. I still remember the smell of that coat
when it was new. It was the coolest article of clothing I ever got. It
never left my sight at the Western Junior High School. It was stylish,
but it didn't keep me warm while hanging on that corner.

That
was a good spring. Thankfully, one by one we stared getting our drivers
licenses, which meant now we parked on the corner and listened to Led
Zeppelin. But when the nice weather arrived, we were out and about. All
the hangouts started becoming more densely populated with kids. You
know the ones I'm talking about.

Yes, I am ready for spring,
even if it doesn't mean hanging around on a corner full of friends any
more. It means walking the dog without shivering and not having to warm
the truck up for 20 minutes. It means no more shoveling, no scarves and
no hats to mess up our hair. Somerville is ready for spring, so bring
it on!

Speaking of simpler times, a wonderful little radio
station is in need of our help. It is WJIB, the memory station, and it
plays great laid back music with no annoying commercials. That means it
is listener supported. Right now they are having a donation drive,
asking for contributions to meet their skyrocketing operating costs.
The donation is, however, not tax deductible.

Bob Bittner is the
owner and operator and here is the address: WJIB, 443 Concord Ave.,
Cambridge MA 02138. Their website is www.wjib740.com – so if you want
great music without commercials and talk, WJIB 740 am is for you! Where
else can you hear the Ballad of the Green Berets, The Singing Nun, Tom
Jones, the Beatles, Sinatra, Glenn Miller and other adult standards
without a car ad in between each song? You can email Jimmy directly at
jimmydel@rcn.com.