I Love the Rain Most

I used to hate talking about the weather. It seemed like such an easy way out of having a real conversation, like it was a cheap excuse to avoid talking about anything with substance. It's easy enough to talk about, because it's affects everybody and it's always right there, just waiting to be discussed. It can make for good small talk, and I tend to dislike small talk; it's the conversational equivalent of reading a pamphlet when there's a compelling novel sitting just underneath it.

The thing is, there's so much more to be discussed than just the weather at hand. A discussion of weather can quickly be turned into a conversation about the person you're talking to. How does a rainy day make them feel? What's their stance on snow? Can they describe, in detail, the weather on what would be their perfect day? How has weather emphasized a mood in their past or been used to improve what might have otherwise been a mediocre day? There are two very closely connected days in my past that I always use to remember how weather can enhance or alter a situation.

In 2004, a friend of mine died in a car accident. He was a K-Psi, and had only just graduated from Baylor about a year earlier. Most of K-Psi found out about his death at the end of band rehearsal, when one of our brothers who was not in marching band came to inform us what had happened. It was in early October, and the weather was cold and drizzling. I (and most of the others who were there that day) will never forget those few minutes after rehearsal, when we formed a circle and sang our national hymn (excerpt: "I do not know how long it will be/or what the future holds for me/But this I know: if I must die/I am a brother of K-K-Psi"... very moving song). In no way do I feel it diminishes the impact of the moment by pointing out that the weather added as much to our ability to experience our grief as the music did. In those moments, for me anyway, my lone solace in having lost someone that I loved was the knowledge that others shared my sadness and mourned with me; emphasizing that sadness with an exceptionally dreary climate as our backdrop caused the moment to hold that much more poignancy. I remember that day as one of the sadder experiences of my college career.

The day of Brandon's funeral, it was sunny outside. Cold, but sunny. The thing I remember most from that day was laughing—frequently and heartily—at the stories some of the others were telling about Brandon. There were many, many K-Psis there, each of them with different experiences with Brandon, and was a very funny guy, so everybody had something completely separate to say from everyone else. It was obvious that our friend was loved, and the sting of losing him was diminished in remembering how he had been able to improve our lives. We stood in his back yard for quite some time telling these stories, wearing our coats but not uncomfortable in the October chill. It was a genuinely happy day even in spite of tragedy, and again the weather was there to highlight it.

I don't dislike talking about the weather anymore.

It's raining today. I like rainy days.