“Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.” Luke 6:21

It would be safe to say that the majority of Minnesotans feel as if they are in the death grip of summer. It is a Beast we long for in February but who has now backed us all into the corner of heat and humidity and we are willing to do nearly anything to escape. Just try having a conversation with anyone and see if you can avoid talking about the weather. It is, I believe, impossible. Those folks who are clawing at the walls of their homes in winter, those who can hardly wait to peel away the layers of fleece and wool that have become another layer of skin, are now holed up in any shelter that has air conditioning. Every mall looks like the day before Christmas. People have no packages in their hands. But they are at least cool for the time being.

But yesterday I began to notice people who were defying the 90 degree temperatures. While on a walk around my neighborhood I encountered more than a dozen bikers, product printed spandex hugged their sweaty skin, as they stopped at the top of the Smith Avenue hill to hydrate. Stationed by the world’s smallest park which just happens to be in our neighborhood, they had the glassy-eyed looks of people who had overcome a trip through the Sahara on a good day. No doubt they felt some pride in their accomplishment but they looked worse for wear.

Further along the way, I witnessed a group of young to middle-aged women carrying on a game of kick ball. Taking up their positions on the baseball diamond, they threw a large purple beach ball to the kicker at home plate. She gave it a whack with her glistening foot and then ran toward first base as the others scrambled for the ball, laughing and having loads of fun. Then again, maybe they were delirious.

On a field nearby, several men were also defying the heat by hitting baseballs. One man stood at the pitcher’s mound and threw the ball to a guy at home plate who hit the ball as hard as he could. Ball after ball after ball. It was as if the batter was trying to knock the very heat out of the air that was visible with humidity.

But by far the most promising act of defiance I witnessed was a little earlier in the day. As I made my way across the High Bridge from downtown St. Paul to St. Paul’s Westside, I drove my car in a line of other people coming home from their work day. In our cooled cocoons, we inched up the incline toward a stoplight. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little boy, perhaps seven years old, dressed in madras plaid shorts and a striped polo shirt. He was strumming a guitar for all he was worth, singing at the top of his lungs to the passing audience. Behind him two girls, in sun dresses, were acting as his backup singers. They swayed their hips and moved their hands in that ‘Stop in the Name of Love’ Supremes motion. He was wailing away and they were, as any good backup singer must, making him look good. I was thankful for a red light so I could enjoy the show and allow my sweltering spirit to have a good laugh.

The heat is not letting up and promises to linger for the next several days. Even the storms we have had have not dulled the ache by bringing any cooler air. So, it looks like we can complain and stay locked up in any place that is cool. Or we can join the budding Elvis and his band and defy it all.

All I can say is they looked like they were having a blast!