John Richards was born in Evanston, Illinois, in 1965. When he closes his eyes, he can still feel the bone-chilling cold of those early winters—the quiet, deep cold that settled over the city and simply stayed. It wasn't just a day of cold; it was the city itself freezing solid. He remembers how the high cost of heating the family home meant that it was never above 68 degrees between November and March.
```The World of Chronic Cold (1965–1983)
For the first eighteen years of John’s life, winter was a chronic condition—long-lasting and predictable. The freezing weather often arrived by Thanksgiving and didn’t truly release its grip until late March.
The measurement that mattered most was 32°F. If the temperature stayed below that level all day, the ground never thawed. This was persistent cold, and it defined the entire season. John remembers those days stretching into weeks, where the snow that fell stayed where it landed, building up layer upon hard-packed layer.
Ice and Skates
The abundance of cold meant ice was everywhere. Every December, the City of Evanston’s Public Works crews would spray water onto the wide fields of many public parks, like Independence Park on Central Street, creating perfect neighborhood ice rinks. The rinks stayed frozen for two or three months. Skating was accessible for everyone and the bigger parks had ice skates you could rent for an hour or two. They also had warming-houses that were open for all skaters, and quite necessary due to the frigid temperatures.
John’s friend, Robbie, lived two blocks away. Robbie’s father was a master of the backyard rink. Using wooden boards and plastic sheeting, he flooded their lawn. Because the daytime temperature rarely went above the 32°F freezing point, the ice held perfectly. John and Robbie spent hours on that small rink, playing hockey and skating in circles and figure eights, the scratch of steel on ice a constant soundtrack to winter.
Snow Forts and Mountains
Snowfall was relentless and consistent, and because the ground never thawed, the snow kept accumulating. To a small boy, the snow mounds at the end of the driveway were mountains. John and his friends tunneled into them and also built snow forts with thick walls that lasted for weeks. The streets themselves were cold enough that they were coated with thin layers of packed snow, and kids skitched—grabbing the bumpers of stopped cars to slide along behind them when they began moving again. It was reckless fun made possible by continuous ice.
The Thaw and the Volatility (1984–2005)
In the late 1980s John began to notice alarming changes. Winter hadn’t disappeared, but it softened. The chronic cold lost its persistence. Strings of days in the 40s became common. Backyard rinks were harder to maintain. Warm spells melted ice unpredictably throughout winter. A select few of the city’s outdoor rinks still opened, but never stayed frozen for more than a few weeks. Snow forts were rarely possible to make and melted quickly when temperatures rose. More frequent melting meant the roads were rarely cold enough to maintain a thin coating of snow, so skitching became impossible.
The New Climate Reality (2006–Present)
Now at 60 years of age, living in the same town, John understands these weren’t just “bad years” but part of a larger climate shift. A recent climatology report confirmed what he felt: the region warmed by about 3°F across his lifetime—enough to erase the long, persistent cold.
John’s life records this change. The stable, frozen landscape is gone. The new pattern is chaotic and acute. “These recent winters aren’t just weird,” he told his sister, looking at the patchy, melting snow. “The entire system has changed. That isn’t just weather; that is climate.”
Climate Terminology
Acute Risk and Decoupling
- High Volatility: Wild swings—one week T-shirts, the next a sudden polar vortex.
- Freeze-Thaw Cycles: Crossing 32°F frequently damages streets through expansion and contraction.
- Decoupling: Snow totals haven’t dropped much overall because warmer air holds more moisture; when cold arrives, storms are fewer but more intense.
