Do you see that little house at the top of this BLOG? That's the house I grew up in, got married from, and returned to every summer for 25 years or more. There was never an air conditioner in that house when I lived there. We had fans.
There was a fan in that front top-floor window, pulling IN the cool, shaded air. There was a fan in the back window, drawing OUT the hot attic air. Downstairs there was a fan in the living room, and one in the dining room.
My dad did not like air conditioning, nor did my mom. I never knew I was deprived by not having an air conditioned place. I just tolerated the heat, and it often got hot enough to cook an egg on the sidewalk. I know this because every time the temperature reached 95 degrees or so, the front page of the Courier Post and/or the Philadelphia Inquirer had a picture of someone frying an egg on the sidewalk.
My grandchildren, the ones that live over on the next hill from us, fried eggs on their driveway earlier this week, and they could have fried them every day.
I'm not complaining about the heat, mind you. I just stay indoors in my nice non-deprived air-conditioned house, because I know that come late December, early January, I'm going to be wishing it was summer or that I was in Florida enjoying warmer weather.
I don't like this heat and humidity, I didn't mind the heat in the southwest when we were there and the daily temps were getting up into the 100s every day, but I shan't complain, because I know what's coming.
Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow!