| Written by Ed Lamaze,
on 02-20-2008
|
Views : 1161  |
 I'm sure you're all tired about hearing us poor, unfortunate Northerners drone on about how cold this winter has been and the fact that once again it's snowing--sideways, and how I've got to shovel snow again because the snow blower is broken. Well, I'm not going to do it.
I'm not going to tell you how as I write this it's 15 degrees outside
(it is) and there's snow on the ground (there is) and there's ice in
the river (there is). In fact, it's so cold outside that this afternoon
I had to pour some warm water on my dog because he had an unfortunate
freezing accident. Remember that kid, Flick, in A Christmas Story?
You know the one, he was double dog dared to infinity to lick the
flagpole. Yeah, that kid. Well, seems Rusty was licking his very own
flagpole and somehow achieved remarkably similar results. He was not a
happy puppy. But I'm not going to tell you about that, I've already
said so, so stop asking. My mind is in much warmer climes. Winter no
longer has a hold on me. I have been liberated and am now thinking
sunny, warm and very happy thoughts. You may be interested in how I
have achieved such a mind over weather transformation. My deliverance
was actually achieved by way of parcel post this weekend.
Several months ago my kids, as part of a fund raiser for their school, sold magazine prescriptions. God bless their little entrepreneurial souls. My wife selected a few, Atlantic Monthly, The London Review of Books to name a couple and asked me to make the last selection. Thanks, honey. Not a single magazine on that four page list appealed to me. Really, I do not care to read Ferret Monthly or The New England Quilters Almanac. Then I saw it. Although it holds little interest for me, I have a five year old boy that loves all things football and generally, anything sports. Sports Illustrated. I quickly did the math, counting the weeks for the subscription and gave it a green light. My son has been thrilled as each week I hand him his fresh editions with Brett Favre, Eli Manning, The National Champion LSU Tigers gracing the covers. But this Friday, IT arrived. The Swimsuit Issue. Forty four years now the saints over at SI have seen fit to publish the Swimsuit Issue completely obliterating any cold weather thoughts that old man winter may have beaten in my head. No I'm not 44. I did not get that first issue with Babette Marche sporting a white bikini on the cover. Nor did I receive the issues for the next several years following, though I do seem to recall a few of them, none specifically.
Truth be told, the first issue I can actually remember was 1979, The Former Mrs. Billy Joel graced the cover for the first time in what would begin a streak of three consecutive years. I was 14 years old and full of shall we say, 14 year oldness. I had just embarked on what is now a journey of epic proportions and SI saw fit to provide a road map or shall we say---user's guide. Every winter for the past 30 years I have looked forward to the SI Swimsuit Issue. It has provided countless hours of reading pleasure. I cease to grow tired of the enlightening articles and find myself reading them over and over and over and over again. And when it seems I may have absorbed all there is and have grown weary or complacent it is time for next year's issue. Funny how that happens.
SI has taken me to sunny beaches across the world year after year and introduced me to countless people, Cheryl, Christie, Elle, Rachel, Heidi, Paulina, Molly, Kathy....people I would have otherwise never known. Without SI I would have never come to appreciate these wonderful people or their charming personalities, although I must admit a few of them are freaks. But that's neither hear nor there. I'm sure when we look deep inside we all could point out a character flaw or two.
So as I look out of my living room window and watch the snow falling on my freshly shoveled driveway at least for a while, I can smile. I'm not here. I'm at the beach. Thank you Sports Illustrated for helping me pull through another case of winter blues.
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