Savage Words: A weather head fake, to beat all head fakes

I’ve lived in a lot of places.

And in every place I’ve lived, I’ve heard the following: “If you don’t like our weather, just wait a few minutes.”

That’s a tired, probably overused quote. It first appeared in Field and Stream magazine in 1909 when writer James A. Cruikshank was referencing Chicago.

But every place I’ve lived – except Los Angeles – people have used that quote. In L.A., the most overpaid professional is the weather person. The 30-minute newscast each night is typically focused on the weather in every other spot in the country. 

Not L.A. In Los Angeles, the weather person comes on for about 10 seconds and says, “Here’s the five-day forecast: It’s going to be sunny and 77. Back to you.”

But I’ve lived in many other spots around the country, and it always used to make me chuckle when I heard the “just wait a few minutes” line, simply because I heard it as a child growing up in South Dakota. 

Indeed, the weather can change in a hurry in our beautiful state. When I first heard the term, or nickname for South Dakota, “Land of Infinite Variety,” I thought it was about the weather. 

Turns out, “Land of Infinite Variety” has nothing to do with the weather. A little Google search let me know what the nickname means: “A highlight of the state’s drastic 77,000-square-mile contrast between eastern rolling farmlands and western, rugged Black Hills and Badlands.”

Hmm. Who knew?

That’s a fine definition, but c’mon, last week’s weather has to apply to ‘Infinite Variety,’ right?

The girls’ basketball team and fans that went to Rapid City last weekend for the state tournament were stranded out west because the wintery weather had Interstate 90, which slices our state right down the center, shut down.

Jill Meier, the founder and editor at the Journal was in Rapid City to cover the tournament. I called her after the game last Saturday night, just to let her know what was going out here. She said she planned to stay the night. That was a good move.

I called her the next day, just to get her thoughts on coming back.

“It looks like a live snowglobe when I look out the window,” I said. “I wouldn’t risk the drive.”

She didn’t. And I’m glad. That was March 15, and the National Weather Service said Sioux Falls was officially experiencing “a significant blizzard with heavy, wet snow.”

Again, that was March 15.

Six days later - SIX days - it was nearly 90 degrees in Sioux Falls and not a snowflake in sight, including the massive mounds that littered parking lots which were created less than a week earlier.

We’re a hearty bunch up here in the Great Plains. I recall a few years ago, picking up my daughter from school, when a couple of young fellas came out the front door in shorts. I looked at the thermometer on my car, and it read: 4.

Last Friday – again, just five days removed from a wintery mix that’d make Santa blush – when everyone’s weather app on their phone called for a high of 76 degrees, I had to chuckle again. I was on the campus of Augustana, waiting for my daughter to go to lunch.

Several – most actually – of the students were dressed exactly like me. We had on shorts because of the warm temperatures in the forecast. But we all had sweatshirts on as well, almost as if to say, “I hear you Mother Nature, but we’re in South Dakota, and I’m not entirely certain I trust what you’re saying.”

By Saturday when temps closed in on 90, some of the anxiety about dressing with a sweatshirt had eased. People were in shorts and t-shirts with little dots of perspiration on their brow when they came inside the coffeeshop I was working from.

That’s cool. I can’t predict if last Saturday’s weather is here to stay, but I can promise you one thing: I’m not putting away my snow-blower just yet.