There was a scene in a Jimmy Stewart/Henry Fonda western called The Cheyenne Social Club from years ago, that my dad especially liked. Jimmy Stewart's character, filled with exasperation, turns to Harley, played by Fonda, and says "Harley, why are you?" Not "where" or "how," but, "WHY are you?" My dad would often have that question in his eyes if not on his tongue when looking at me. It is a question I still get...in a slightly different form when I visit schools or, this time of year, summer schools and camps. Today, for example, I head up to the terrific town of Polo, Missouri for a summer school visit. Last week, as I mentioned in an earlier blog...what do you call a bleak frog? A bl-og...or, as I look at it now, a fr-eak....I had a wonderful time at Fleetridge Elementary.

In the mailbox this morning was a colorful envelope filled with pictures and thank you letters from the students. One second-grader opened his letter by writing "Words can't express how happy I am that you came to our school....Oh, like you, I really like reading..." With lyrical writing like that, he should be doing a blog, not me! Another said "I hope you will look back and laugh about this (the visit.) Who else will laugh?" She signed hers with "I'm just a kid." Well, a very perceptive kid! All the messages were great and some included a version of that question "Why are you?" as in "Why did you become a weatherman?" I hear that one from kids at schools, adults at charitable events, viewers in the grocery store and bosses at work, all the time. The bosses at work, and some of the viewers, tend to emphasize different words in that sentence...usually the "YOU."

Some weather folks can point to childhood experiences with a nearby lightning bolt or tornado or blizzard as the spark for their interest in weather. Some had an interest in aviation which led naturally to weather. Some were influenced by watching their favorite weatherman on TV. I don't really have a story like any of those. Honestly, growing up near rivers and lakes, we tended to forecast by watching the sky at night or in the morning...or paying attention to animals. If the birds were going crazy it meant storms were on the way or Alfred Hitchcock had moved into your neighborhood. If the cows were not standing up it meant a change in the weather...we called those cows "ground beef." My mom swore that a little white-tail squirrel that used to bounce around outside our house could predict the weather. If he seemed especially in a hurry to gather food, a stormy trend could be anticipated or if he was wearing Bermuda shorts and carrying Coppertone, a hot streak was on the way. My mom grew very close to that squirrel and loved to talk to him through the window. I always imagined the squirrel telling his family about the "sweet, little blond human that is so cute to watch scurrying around the house...she keeps making funny noises but I have no idea what she's trying to tell me."

As for becoming a weatherman, I just sort of fell into it about 20+ years ago. The station in Madison, Wisconsin needed a weekend weatherman and I was already hanging around doing goofy little stories. I had taken some meteorology in college and, growing up in the area, had an idea about what kind of weather was usually in store. Also, I could sort of play the piano and pretend to sing. Why was that important? Our main weatherman, the legendary Elmer Childress, was really a fine Gospel singer. So, it was expected that music would, from time to time, be a part of the weather. We even did a weather commercial that was made up entirely of a song called The Cloudy Skies Will Clear Up...not a word about severe weather coverage or who had the scariest radar or who guaranteed what...just a little, optimistic song. So, it appears my interest in music had as much to do with my current job as interest in weather.

Actually, now that I think about it, the two things do come together. Even as a little kid, I loved old songs. When it would rain, I couldn't help, like lots of folks of any age, thinking of Singing in the Rain. Except, unlike most folks, especially age nine or so, I would actually go outside and try to recreate Gene Kelly's famous scene. Most of the neighbors wisely ignored this behavior, but across the street, that neighbor actually liked it...encouraged it, in fact. With the first raindrop she would start to watch out the window...when I would come charging into the street, singing at the top of my lungs, she would stand on her front porch and applaud. It was then, I guess, I should have realized I'd become a weatherman who tried to sing...or a singer who tried to predict the weather. So, I guess you can blame my neighbor for all the silliness that has come over the TV since then.

It gets even wierder: That movie I mentioned earlier, The Cheyenne Social Club, was directed by the same, singing, dancing Gene Kelly. Coincidence? I think not. Maybe this is just the beginning of a tangled web of answers to that original question "Why Are You?" Watch for it at your bookstore: The Duh Weatherman Code. I like the ring of that.