“Forecasting
is very difficult, especially when it involves the future.”
– Yogi
Berra (1925-2015), Major League catcher and coach
I turn on the evening or
late local TV news, and I find it totally obsessed with information
about the weather – not reporting about a disaster or dire
forecast, but simply telling me what to expect when I venture outside
tomorrow. The broadcast begins with a forecast, goes into much more
detail later, and ends with “a pleasant reminder” of the
prognostication. It seems as if the station thinks either I'm too
dumb to remember what's coming without reminder after reminder or
believes I have a severe case of ombrophobia (fear of rain).
I don't need that much
coverage about the weather. I would prefer that the half hour program
featured more local news rather than weather, weather, weather. Lord,
I get all of this detailed information about weather stuff I really
don't care about – including hourly dopler radar, positions of
fronts, directions of clouds, dew points, relative humidity, and
much, much more.
Usually all I care to know
about the weather is if it's going to rain or snow tomorrow. I need
only basic information about the next 24 hours (48 hours top).
Besides, my limited geezer brain these days gets confused by the
slightest complications. And, my memory is totally incapable of
remembering whether I took my prescriptions this morning, much less
if the sun will shine five days from now.
Too much detail! What do I
care about a ten day forecast that I'm pretty sure is going to change
at least five times before the limits of the prediction? To make
things worse, the stations promote the programs with attractive names
like “AccuWeather” and “Storm Tracker” to create the
illusions that forecasts are foolproof and vital to the existence of
life outdoors.
Spectrum News has “Weather
on the 1's,” which features an update like every ten minutes. What
the hell constantly changes in ten minutes? That's more weather than
my simple mind can contemplate: I usually don't care if it's raining
or threatening rain or partly cloudy or fair. I'm just happy to be
alive in any weather the Man Upstairs chooses to send my way.
Besides, I have the Weather Channel if I want inundated with
information.
A few years ago in 2007,
Andy Tarnoff of OnMilwaukee online media said a recent study
by the American Association of Advertising Agencies (AAAA) and the
Association of National Advertisers, Inc. (ANA) showed that local
news broadcasts 19:06 minutes of ads per hour. Split that in half,
and you have about 20.5 minutes of "news" per half-hour
cast.
Tarnoff estimated that
weather comprised at least six minutes per broadcast, when you
include all the "weather first" segments and weather
babbling at the end of each show. By his math, that's 29 percent of
the local news devoted to run-of-the-mill weather. It's probably more
time than that now with all the newfangled weather technology on
display,
When I was 17 (In '68, I
believe), I worked for a while at Frank's Car Wash on Scioto Trail –
one of those hook 'em up, drag a car through operations. Labor was
all manual – no machines but pits with folks doing suds and rinse
details. In anticipation of wages for $1.00 an hour, workers would
gather before opening every morning while owner Frank scanned the
skies and decided how many hands to keep and pay on that particular
day. And, if it did rain, he shut the car wash down and employees
simply earned less.
Things were so much
simpler then. People weren't so excited about knowing the forecast.
It was often wrong anyhow. In fact, some of the best times I remember
involved unexpected showers and similar weather events. The
spontaneity made things more exciting. The unpredictability typically
made people smile or simply grit their teeth and bear a little
inconvenience.
For example, when I worked
as a lifeguard at Lake Margaret, a sudden rain would send everyone
rushing for cover in the clubhouse. During the wait for the rain to
stop, I remember people playing the jukebox, lots of animated teens
eating and drinking and dancing, and even providing a welcome hug for
one or two og the young ladies who were freezing in their skimpy
bathing suits. (The least I could do)
But, one time I remember
getting ready to play a high school baseball game and having no idea
a tornado was approaching. It was April 23, 1968. and a hard rain
began to fall under a weird-looking sky. Knowing we were rained out,
we quickly ran to our cars and headed for home. The wind suddenly
became so strong that I had to pull over and weather the rest of the
storm in the intermediate school parking lot, just several hundred
feet from the ball field.
This was a devastating EF-5 tornado that wreaked havoc on Wheelersburg that day.
The tornado cut a
2,500-foot-wide swath through the town and through rural areas nearly
to Galipollis. Sixty-nine homes and 28 other buildings were
destroyed, and another 476 structures were damaged in the tornado.
Seven people lost their lives, and 100 others were seriously hurt.
That tornado largely
missed Lucasville (Unlike the one that hit in April 1965 and left the
remains of Gahm's store all over Haystack Hill.); however, when I
reached home in the Marca subdivision in '68, I discovered the
tornado had skipped over the hills there and torn a corner off the
Gilmore's home on nearby Lang Lane. My mom weathered it out as the
wind blew out our front picture window, scaring her silly. Part of
the frame of the Gilmore's home was embedded in the ground in our
front yard.
That was a little too
close for comfort. I certainly would have appreciated modern advance
warnings that day – in a time before cell phones and all the
technical early warning systems. Then, the danger was something we
found ourselves quickly adapting to.
But, I digress. Back to my
original thesis.
So much weather coverage
in a local newscast is driving me bonkers. I wonder if stations just
don't have the time, ability, or confidence to dig out more news to
fill the report and present a more condensed forecast. Our closest
stations are in Huntington, West Virginia, and they cover very little
Southern Ohio news – a change would be welcome.
But, hell, maybe people
like this weather coverage overload. I don't understand the
texting/smartphone obsession either – I'll be visiting four other
people in a room and all of them will be hovering over their devices
and twittering their fingers during a supposed “face-to-face
conversation,” so in 2021, the need to be informed every minute
about every little thing that's happening on God's green Earth could
just be part of the fixation on technology.
According to recent
statistics from techjury.net, 77% of Americans have
smartphones. 47% of these U.S. smartphone users say they couldn’t
live without their devices. GenZ, GenX, and Millenials
statistics on US smartphone use for 2020 reveal that a staggering
65.6% of Americans check their phones up to 160 times daily.
Now, we have something
called “nomophobia” or no–mobile-phone-phobia. Simply
put, it’s the fear of not having your phone with you. Techjury
reports 66% of the population shows signs of nomophobia. Believe it
or not, 75% of Americans use their mobile phones in that sacred place
of refuge – the toilet.
The exponential growth of
technology has benefited society, but there is a another side to the
dependence on staying constantly connected. We seem to be losing
important aspects of the human experience. Has anyone else noticed
folks becoming more and more impatient, impulsive, forgetful and even
narcissistic? Not to mention, the growing number of people who can't
hold a simple conversation?
Perhaps a psychotic
dependency on knowing the weather forecast – similar to smartphone
dominion – will eventually spawn a movement to stop having popular
events in fear of being caught in unfavorable atmospheric conditions.
Officials and participants will become overly alarmed about
forebodings of unfavorable precipitation, wind, lightning, clouds,
pollen and mold counts.
The result? People
eventually just won't want to leave home in fear of encountering what
they consider to be a disagreeable environment. Instead, they will
stay put, fire up their devices, and enter virtual reality – a safe
place for picnics, outdoor concerts, sporting events, and the rest.
And, if this happens,
weather – sunshine, rain, sleet, or snow – just won't matter. The
only problem for local tv weather broadcasters is that no one will
watch their elaborate programming. Instead, humans will be happily
engaged in artificial, three-dimensional computer modeling and
simulation – a “perfect” world where mankind forgets to live
real lives and becomes chronically disconnected from their human
biological needs.
Of course, then it will be
too late for people to care about reality at all. They will not be
able to distinguish out-of-body from in-body experiences. Can you
imagine? And, it's all because of this overabundance of local
television weather coverage. Shame on you, Tony Cavalier. It's enough
to make me go outside and see if it looks like rain – just like we
all did in the old days.
Someone told me long
ago
There's a calm before the storm
I know, it's been comin'
for some time
When it's over so they say
It'll rain a sunny
day
I know, shinin' down like water
I wanna know
Have
you ever seen the rain?
I wanna know
Have you ever seen the
rain
Comin' down a sunny day?
– From “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” by Creedence Clearwater Revival
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