Cold vs. Cold

Random Rants: The Differences Between US Regions

I cannot count the number of absolutely pointless arguments that I have had with other people about the definition of the word "cold." Too many times, a friend who grew up in a state far north of Texas, Louisiana or Florida will insist, with all the emphasis they can muster, that the more southern idea of cold is not "cold." These friends who grew up farther from the equator than I did will insist that "cold" can never be anything but the kind of weather where: the temperature is below freezing, there's ten inches of snow on the ground, and the water pipes everywhere in town are frozen solid.

Meanwhile, I maintain a "southern" viewpoint that "cold" is any of those weather conditions that necessitates the use a sweater or a coat or more warm-weather clothes. There doesn't need to be snow on the ground; frost is bad enough. Or, if it feels like I've stepped into a walk-in freezer whenever I leave my house, then that's "cold." Alternately, if there's a chill in the air and goosebumps form on my arm, that's "cold."

Those friends and I have two opposing viewpoints with two very different ideas of the word "cold." In more southern states, "cold" seems to be a generic term for any typical fall or winter weather. In northern states, "cold" is used to indicate a much narrower range of temperature and weather conditions. Southerners, in my experience, call any weather that is not cool, warm or hot "cold." The northerners I have met do not call all weather that is not cool, warm, or hot "cold;" they reserve that moniker for only some of the weather that southerners call "cold."

I absolutely hate the argument; the debate has occurred too many times for me to feel anything but frustrated by it. While we seem to have no trouble accepting that one region of the US may use "coke" as a generic term for soft drinks while another region uses "pop" and another region uses "soda," we can't seem to accept that the word "cold" is also a slang term. No; every argument we have about the definition of "cold" never ends; it's ongoing because everyone engaged in the argument stubbornly insists that the word can have only one definition--their specific definition--and there is no room for other opinions.

As far as I can tell, here are the scales used by my friends and myself (where the numbers 1-8 on one scale correspond with the numbers on the other scale):

Their Scale (Northeastern and northwestern states):

1. Hot=T-shirt weather

2. Warm=T-shirt weather

3. Not as Warm=T-shirt weather

4. Cool=T-shirt weather

5. Cooler=I Could Wear Shorts If I Wanted to Just to Show off My Freakish Tolerance Levels, but I'll Just Stand Here in My Sweater and Thin Pants Feeling Smug While You Southerners Huddle Together for Warmth

6. Chilly=Sweater weather

7. Cold=Coat weather

8. Freezing=It's Time for Coats and Sweaters and All the Winter Things

My Scale (Southern states):

1. Stifling/Hot/Humid=Air Conditioning is Divine/As Little Clothing as Possible is Preferable

2. Warm/Pleasant=T-Shirt Weather

3. Cool/Still Pleasant=T-shirt weather

4. Chilly/Cold (Generic Term)=Sweater and Sweatshirt Time

5. Cold=It's Time to Wear Coats and Thick Jackets

6. Really Freaking Cold/Cold (Generic Term)=It's Time for Coats and Sweaters and All the Winter Things

7. Freezing/Cold (Generic Term)=Just Hoover Perpetually Around a Heating Vent; It's the Only Way to Stay Warm

8. It's f***ing freezing out here! How can anyone live like this???/Cold (Generic Term)=Find a sauna and lock yourself inside

So, yeah. We have differences of opinion and sometimes different reactions to the same temperatures. With variations in climate between the upper and lower parts of the continental US, we were exposed to different weather as we grew up, which affects our tolerance levels now. That is partly the reason, I think, why we have really stupid arguments about what "cold" weather really is.

But, really, it doesn't matter what "cold" means. The argument isn't actually about the weather and our tolerance levels; it's really about differences between regional cultures in the United States. My friends and I wouldn't give a damn what constitutes "cold" if our regional cultures didn't have a (unofficially) strong opinion of the definition of the word. Every time we argue, we are really just reiterating the view of "cold" accepted by the region in which we grew up.

There are many subcultures in this country; Cajun culture, my culture, is only one of them. It can take a while to describe differences between regions--though they exist, there are many similarities, too. For example, My friends from other states often ask me why I don't have a southern accent, and I have to explain that I grew up in Louisiana speaking with an accent that sounds almost identical to theirs, as hard as it may be to believe. It can be hard (for me, anyway) to tell, just from looking at a group of Americans, who comes from where: we wear the same clothes, we're aware of the same cultural events, and as I mentioned, we have similar accents.

With these aspects of our national culture blending together, insistently clinging onto labels for the weather may just be an easy and simple way of reestablishing regional boundaries that we grew up believing were important and necessary toward our own self-identity. Arguing about the weather is just a quick way to re-enforce that our regional views are unique and different from other regional views and cultures. 

I love discussing differences between US regions. However, if I never have another argument about what "cold" is, I will be a happy woman.