On New Year's Day I went with my parents to play Bunco. That night, after it was over, I decided to walk home. It's only around the block, so I figured it wouldn't be bad. I didn't realize the temperature had dropped to 17 degrees and was continuing to drop. As I started walking, the cold started setting in and I began to see just how cold it can get there. I had lived there as a young adult, but I've lived in California for so long that I forgot. But California is more humid, so during the day in Utah, it feels warmer than the same temperature in California. But 17 degrees is pretty cold, no matter the humidity level.
Suddenly as I was walking along, I started having this panicky feeling. I started thinking about the pioneers who walked for weeks and weeks in that cold of weather. I thought about them sleeping outside in the freezing weather. I thought about them dying of the cold. I thought about the fear I would experience if I had to sleep out in it. I thought about the homeless and how they cope with the cold. I also thought about what would happen if the electricity went out. My parents do have a wood stove, but even then, it is a scary thought. It really made me grateful that I have a warm home and warm climate. It also makes me appreciate my pioneer ancestors who suffered so much so that they could live in a place where they could worship freely, and where they could build up a community. They are my forefathers, and I am the beneficiary of their sacrifices.