I’ve lived in Colorado most of my life, so I have to admit my approach to snow is unconventional. OK, some would call him eccentric. In fact, many have called me rubber room crazy, right to my face, because of the way I tend to dress when it’s snowing.

A few years ago I was outside my house in Denver, shoveling snow. Nothing remarkable there. Except, in my case, the guy shoveling snow was wearing shorts (the kind you’d see on guys working out at the gym), a T-shirt, and flip-flops. The facts were these: It wasn’t too cold outside, I was working out and sweating, and they were my all-weather rubber flip flops after all. But I still got a few funny looks from neighbors driving by, and one neighbor took the time to bundle up and go outside to ask me if he was completely insane.

But that’s not the best/worst example. I was once pulled out of airport security in Munich on a snowy December day for the express purpose of being laughed at (I was wearing my snow shoveling clothes). Given the difference between my thoughts and society’s on the subject of winter clothing, this teasing was well deserved, and I was just thankful they didn’t think I was a security risk. “Are you aware that it’s snowing outside?” the tall security guard asked, a German-accented laugh in his voice. He stopped all the security lines for a couple of seconds, in fact, to make sure all of his fellow guards could see and laugh at the crazy stupid American. I bet he made their day and gave them all something to tell his wives over dinner. “Yes,” was all I said.

What I wanted to say to him (but not to a guy in uniform with a gun) was this: “I got dressed in a warm hotel in Austria… actually, given the weather outside, they had the heating on.” I was the only one in the lobby who wasn’t sweating under layers of clothing. I had to walk outside for about four seconds to get into an overly warm car, where I stayed for the two-hour drive to the airport and where I was the only occupant not sweating under coats and layers. Then I had to walk outside for about twelve seconds (I found it refreshing) to get to a nice, warm airport, where I’m the only one who doesn’t have to take off four layers of clothing to go through the metal detector. Now I’m going to walk straight from the airport, down a runway, onto a nice, warm plane… where I’ll be the only one who’s really dressed. for the activity we’ll all be trying to undertake for the ten-hour flight home (sleep) and that you don’t have to struggle with a heavy coat and out of the overhead bin. Then when I get back to Denver, I’ll spend thirty minutes walking through that nice warm airport to get out, where it might be seventy degrees and snowing, but I’ll have to walk about twenty seconds through the covered garage to get in. my own quick warm-up car. Then I’ll fight traffic and icy roads for an hour to get home, all the while in a nice warm car, which I’ll drive straight to my nice warm garage. So yeah, in the next few hours I might have a chance to spend up to thirty-six seconds outside where everyone else will be wearing a coat and I’ll be in shorts. I’m so dumb”.

I’ve learned that some things make perfect rational sense, but not what you would call “social” sense. So be it.

Today, I was similarly drawn (although luckily I was wearing shoes) for my daily commute to the gym, and it’s snowing like crazy here. On the way home, on a little traveled country road, I passed a lady whose car had slid into a ditch and she was being helped by a man in proper gloves and jacket with a big truck and a tow chain. I pulled over and got out to help (not sure I was much help, but I think I helped keep the car from sliding further into the ditch every time the good samaritan had to turn to get a better “grip”). “You’re wearing shorts!” the lady said as she got out of my vehicle. “Yes,” I answered, “I just came from the gym.” That explanation seemed to make me less crazy, especially since I was there to help, and as I grunted under the weight of it because the lady asked me if I was glad I went to the gym. We pulled her out, there were thank yous and smiles everywhere, and we all drove off in our separate cars. I dare say the day had heated up for all of us.

The incident reminded me of the still-reported Colorado Blizzard of ’82 when I was living in a small town under three feet of snow on Christmas Eve. Some of us went out (I was young and dumb, wearing jeans and a coat) and shoveled about half a mile down the street to take a visiting lady to the main road (and hopefully to the airport). We weren’t going to wait for help – the snowplow drivers were overworked anyway – we were just helping ourselves and each other. That’s America. We have courage and kindness… and unconventional ways of thinking. We’re the kind of people who aren’t afraid to start a business, risk an investment, or shovel a road by hand. And even when we do the unconventional (“crazy”) stuff, there’s usually some kind of sense somewhere, and if you don’t want to take the time to find the sense, we don’t care what you think. about us anyway. You’ll probably get rid of your car at some point and we’ll be there (in jeans or shorts) to help you.

Some people call that a form of insanity. Others call it a form of inspirational leadership.

If my unconventional views on winter attraction have caused laughter (even derisive laughter) among neighbors, security guards, hotel guests, airline passengers, and stranded motorists in various countries, I can only be happy! grateful! After all, as a stage actor and humor writer, I’ve always wanted to make people laugh. Laughter is good and helps digestion. The way I see it, snow always brings with it the opportunity to share warm feelings with my fellow humans. I don’t mind being the clown, and I don’t mind being the guy in the ditch who gives your car a powerful and helpful boost. It’s good for me to do something nice for you.

Any opportunity to help others is a great help to you.

by Michael D. Hume, M.S.