Glenn Burns is a big tease. He is like the girl in high school who wore short skirts and low-cut blouses and lots of makeup. You know the girl I'm talking about. Every school had one. She flirted with all the boys - even the awkward ones with cowlicks and big ears, like me. She would touch your arm when she talked to you and had a maddening way of letting her fingernails trail along it as she walked away from you, looking over her shoulder with that Mona Lisa smile that promised everything.
Of course she delivered nothing.
It didn't matter, though. Hope sprang eternal and kept you coming back for more. You couldn't help yourself because you were certain that if she ever did follow through on her veiled promises, the end results would be more than worth the wait.
Glenn Burns is just like that girl. You know he is.
But maybe I have "some 'splainin' to do."
Glenn Burns is the long time WSB weatherman. Chief Meteorologist is his actual title, I think. And since he's the chief guy, he gets to be the one who gets us all riled up about potential winter weather - and understand - I get all riled up about winter weather. I don't care how stupid Yankees think I am. Snow is a rare occurrence here in Dixie - as rare as an awkward high school boy with a cowlick and big ears getting lucky back in the 1960s. Actually it's not quite that rare. It has, after all, snowed at some point in Georgia - but you get my drift - pun intended.
Now I told you all of that to tell you this. Last Thursday I got a heads up from my boss, who is a weather junkie, that one of the folks who put computer models together concerning the weather had said the "S" word in conjunction with the early part of next week. This same weather junkie had warned me a couple of weeks earlier of the deep freeze we endured last week, but this time he was talking about frozen precipitation falling from the sky.
Well, I'm old Atlanta and when I was coming up until you had heard it on WSB (Welcome South Brother) it hadn't happened or hadn't been predicted to happen. Oh, we would wander over to channel 5 or channel 11 to see what those folks had to say, especially when Guy Sharp and Johnny Beckman were on the air, but the official report had to originate from White Columns. (Ask somebody if you are a newcomer.)
When I came home Thursday I immediately turned on the television to watch the 5 o'clock news. As I cooked supper - yes, I cook supper, but I'm taken ladies - David Chandley would intermittently appear on the broadcast to talk about the high wind and falling temperatures, and during each appearance he would allude to the fact that there may be more interesting weather news to report during the 6 o'clock hour. He never once promised to reveal the whole story. He left that to Glenn Burns, which brings us back to the beginning.
Glenn Burns is a big tease.
Now you need to understand this. We operate on a schedule at our house. We eat supper, when it is my turn to cook, at 6 o'clock. That's how I was raised up. Perry Como would sing the Lord's Prayer on the radio (WGFS - the voice and choice of the Piedmont area) and as soon as he got out that last "amen" my daddy would say grace and we would eat. And please understand - the radio and the television were O-F-F - off.
We follow that same policy at my house. We don't watch the television while we are eating. But Thursday evening I made an exception because Glenn Burns had come on at the top of the hour and promised to reveal his winter weather prediction. "Coming up next," I believe was the exact term he used.
Well, it was just my daughter Jenna and me (my lovely wife, Lisa, was birthing babies), so we kept the television on while we ate, promising one another that we would turn it off as soon as we found out whether we would have school next week and whether we needed to make an emergency run to the grocery store.
Segment after segment after segment came and went. We were told half a dozen times that it would be cold and windy Friday and half a dozen times we were promised that the wintry forecast was imminent.
We ate the entire meal and washed the dishes before Glenn Burns got to Monday night's forecast. He might as well have been wearing a miniskirt and low-cut blouse and been running his fingernails along my arm.
But finally, there was that beautiful weather map with the snow curve running all the way down to I-20 and the pink wintry mix line approaching Macon. It was almost like the girl in high school was climbing into the back seat of my car.
But come to think of it, she almost did that a time or two, but always backed out. So I'm putting Glenn Burns on notice. If I don't see white stuff falling out of the skies in a couple of days - I'm putting him on my list - and not even an autographed picture of Karen Minton will make things right.
Darrell Huckaby is a local author and educator. He can be reached at dHuck08@bellsouth.net.