I hate winter.
I don’t hate it because of the snow and ice and sleet
and cold. I hate it because it means another three
months of having bossy radio and TV personalities
bombard me with unneeded motherly advice. Not since the
days when my own mother awoke me for school every day
with the words “don’t forget to wear your rubbers” have
I been bugged so persistently in the morning.
The carping usually begins a little after sunup when I
flip on the radio in the kitchen and hear an announcer
say, “Stay tuned for the 6 a.m. weather update.” The
station quickly cuts to a commercial for a local travel
agency that’s offering a 6-day-5-night getaway for just
$800 per person and then it’s time for the station’s
weather reporter, who sounds much more cheerful than he
should at that time of the morning, to order me to carry
my umbrella to work that day.
Well-meaning broadcasters do the same things to me at
other times of the year, but their maternal instincts
don’t seem to kick into high gear until the weather
starts turning lousy.
“Don’t forget to leave yourself a little extra time to
get to work this morning,” says a morning-show host as I
sit twiddling my thumbs in a traffic jam two blocks from
my house. “Better get out the ol’ scraper this morning,”
I’m advised by another weather reporter as I gaze
bleary-eyed at the 6-inch coating of ice covering my
windshield.
Some days the nagging is nonstop.
“Slow down.”
“Bundle up.”
“Watch for patches of dense fog.”
“Avoid the westbound lanes of the interstate.”
“Be on the lookout for slick spots on area roadways this
morning.”
“Keep right.”
“Keep left.”
“Cow in the road on County Road 33. “
“Leave for work early.”
“Take your time getting to the office.”
“Turn on those headlights.”
“Expect long delays because the orange barrels are out
on U.S. 35.”
I don’t know who died and left broadcasters in charge
of getting people like me and you to and from work every
day, but I wish they’d stop. If they don’t, maybe all
of the stations could change their call letters to WNAG.
Or, better yet, WMOM.
