Cooling the Swamp
Now, in this twenty-first century, we are living in another house with hot water heat, which means that we don't have any duct work to accommodate central air. So, we make do with a window air conditioner in our bedroom, and several fans, including a whole-house attic fan that draws the cool, night time air into our house as we sleep, just as the enormous roof fans at the Hotel Mary-Etta kept the guests' rooms pleasantly cool in the summer, way back in the 1960s.
Because we live in western Nebraska now, with its relatively dry climate, we manage without central air just fine, most of the time.
I've never lived in a house with central air. When I was a young child, I didn't even know anybody whose house had central air conditioning. Oh, a few people had window air conditioners that made those hottest summer days a little more bearable, as long as you stayed in the same room. But, even in 100 degree weather, most people made do with fans.
When my family moved from Norfolk, in northeastern Nebraska, to Fairbury, down on the Kansas border, in 1964, we were rather excited to learn that our new apartment was air-conditioned. I don't know what I expected, but our "air conditioners" were totally different from any kind of air conditioner I had ever seen.
Our apartment boasted a rather large living room--big enough that our seven-foot couch looked small, snugged up under the windows on one wall, with space along that same wall for a recliner on one side, and a five foot long radiator on the other side. The console television sat by itself, across the room. There was no place for furniture on the remaining outside wall, because our air conditioner dominated the floor space in front of those south-facing windows.
Like everything else in that living room, our air conditioner was painted hotel green. Standing at least four feet tall, with the center section stretching up above its lower, wider corners, it was made during some long-ago era when all appliances had rounded shoulders. It wasn't movable at all, any more than our radiator could be moved. Both were permanent, fully plumbed fixtures, leftovers of a bygone era when hot water heat and air-cooled luxury meant that the implements of comfort became the necessary focal points of any room.
I never heard the phrase, "swamp cooler," used to describe our form of air-conditioned comfort, but that's what it was, an evaporative cooler that worked much like the simpler systems employed centuries earlier, when slaves would fan the air above water-filled urns to keep their masters cool on a hot day. I'm not sure why the electrified version worked so well in Fairbury's humid climate, since evaporative coolers are best used in arid climates, but it actually cooled our living room quite well.
Of course, it was noisy, sounding like a rocket preparing to take off, when we turned on the switch. But, along with two other, smaller units that cooled two of our three bedrooms (not mine!), that green monstrosity did a good job of keeping our apartment cool in the summer.
And, in the off-season, it provided a good place to hide behind, during a game of hide and seek. However, my little brother, Danny's, favorite use for the air conditioner (when Mom and Dad were out of sight) was to climb up on top, wearing only his underwear and an improvised super hero cape, and jump down, as far away as he could stretch, shouting "UN-derwear!" at the top of his lungs, in imitation of his favorite cartoon character, the infamous Underdog.
I've often wondered why our downstairs neighbors never commented about the boisterous antics of the young, over-zealous, super-hero who had taken up residence just above their heads.
Because we live in western Nebraska now, with its relatively dry climate, we manage without central air just fine, most of the time.
I've never lived in a house with central air. When I was a young child, I didn't even know anybody whose house had central air conditioning. Oh, a few people had window air conditioners that made those hottest summer days a little more bearable, as long as you stayed in the same room. But, even in 100 degree weather, most people made do with fans.
When my family moved from Norfolk, in northeastern Nebraska, to Fairbury, down on the Kansas border, in 1964, we were rather excited to learn that our new apartment was air-conditioned. I don't know what I expected, but our "air conditioners" were totally different from any kind of air conditioner I had ever seen.
Our apartment boasted a rather large living room--big enough that our seven-foot couch looked small, snugged up under the windows on one wall, with space along that same wall for a recliner on one side, and a five foot long radiator on the other side. The console television sat by itself, across the room. There was no place for furniture on the remaining outside wall, because our air conditioner dominated the floor space in front of those south-facing windows.
Like everything else in that living room, our air conditioner was painted hotel green. Standing at least four feet tall, with the center section stretching up above its lower, wider corners, it was made during some long-ago era when all appliances had rounded shoulders. It wasn't movable at all, any more than our radiator could be moved. Both were permanent, fully plumbed fixtures, leftovers of a bygone era when hot water heat and air-cooled luxury meant that the implements of comfort became the necessary focal points of any room.
I never heard the phrase, "swamp cooler," used to describe our form of air-conditioned comfort, but that's what it was, an evaporative cooler that worked much like the simpler systems employed centuries earlier, when slaves would fan the air above water-filled urns to keep their masters cool on a hot day. I'm not sure why the electrified version worked so well in Fairbury's humid climate, since evaporative coolers are best used in arid climates, but it actually cooled our living room quite well.
Of course, it was noisy, sounding like a rocket preparing to take off, when we turned on the switch. But, along with two other, smaller units that cooled two of our three bedrooms (not mine!), that green monstrosity did a good job of keeping our apartment cool in the summer.
And, in the off-season, it provided a good place to hide behind, during a game of hide and seek. However, my little brother, Danny's, favorite use for the air conditioner (when Mom and Dad were out of sight) was to climb up on top, wearing only his underwear and an improvised super hero cape, and jump down, as far away as he could stretch, shouting "UN-derwear!" at the top of his lungs, in imitation of his favorite cartoon character, the infamous Underdog.
I've often wondered why our downstairs neighbors never commented about the boisterous antics of the young, over-zealous, super-hero who had taken up residence just above their heads.
| I tried to find a picture of our gigantic, green, "swamp cooler," but no luck, so this picture of Underdog will have to suffice. Keep cool! |
Comments
Post a Comment