chilly tradition {life}

You might remember from years past that Nantucket hosts a Cold Turkey plunge to support the local children's library each Thanksgiving. We've participated in years past. Well, strike that. Of our family, Cal has participated in year's past. Neel and I have attended every year that we've been going to Nantucket. Gold star for us.

Since our friend Jon nearly drown in his turkey suit last year (apparently gold lamé is super absorbent), he opted not to plunge this go around, and since Cal has been fighting that cold since September, we held him out too. We still went to cheer on the foolhardy folk who felt the need to submerge themselves in the warm embrace of the waters of Children's Beach.

We got there early enough to snag a spot on a pier alongside the beach and the man who was emceeing the event noted over and over that the air temperature was 38º while the water temperature was a balmy 48º. If Joe Biden (or at least his Secret Service detail) wanted to make an unobtrusive entrance, that was thwarted when the emcee said, "Somebody get the Vice President a wrist band!"

The tide was low, the water was warm and soon it was time for the countdown. Even before the count was finished, the crowd was bounding toward the water. It was joyous and exhilarating to watch, and I'm so glad that I I did was watch. Really, some things are better left untried.

People came out laughing and gasping and generally pleased with themselves. And really, why shouldn't they be?

So what do you do after witnessing all that chilly splendor? Pop into the nearest bar for a hot toddy or a rum and cider. Preferably your bartender will be in boots and a bathrobe. And warmed from within.