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From Margaret Gould Stewart, Creative Director:

When Bo convinced me, back in '95, to move from New York City to Williamstown, he mentioned the snow ("great for skiing"), the foliage ("some of the best fall colors in New England"), and even the spring ("flowers burst forth in celebration of the new season"...OK, he never said that, but he was thinking it). He never told me about the heat.

You see, the big lie is, there is no spring in Williamstown. Here in the Berkshires, they like to cut out the middle man in all aspects of life; buy produce from the farmer, not Stop & Shop; buy bread at the local bakery instead of Wonder (Matt Quann excluded); and never mind a graceful transition from winter to summer. The Berkshires just take you from snow in May to the blistering heat of June we are presently experiencing, which is this area's idea of summer.

Now, I'm from Tennessee, so I have a pretty high tolerance for heat and humidity. But what people don't understand is that even the teeniest store, the smallest school, the dinkiest apartments south of the Mason Dixon come fully equipped with what has to be the greatest invention of modern man, next to the Information Superhighway: air conditioning.

Presently, we are not so lucky. As some of you may know through the Tripod Insider newsletter, Tripod moved from its picturesque white colonial house at 191 Water Street into a cool old cable factory right across the street. We were all excited to have more space; we'd grown out of the old digs many moons ago, and it was time for a change. But about a week after we moved in the mercury started to rise, and we realized that opening all the ten-foot windows in the place wasn't going to solve one simple problem: It's so hot you could fry an egg on our desktops.

The ceiling fans that we ordered are a little late in arriving, as are the blinds for the windows to shade us from the searing sun. And to make matters worse, the spring water delivery got mixed up because of the move, and there was no drinking water for several days.

People came up with all kinds of ways to deal with the sun and heat. The tech guys became even more nocturnal; newspapers and old press kits were taped on the windows to shield monitors from the unbearable glare; and some even turned to a life of crime. The usually law-abiding Design Guild admitted to pilfering Bo's personal stash of Poland Springs Lemon-Flavored Seltzer.

And some turned to art to express their woes... Christina from Membership, a talented writer and poet in her own right, graced us with the following verse which summed up all our feelings about summer in Billsville. I have annotated her most excellent verse in order to explain some of the inside jokes.

by Christina Simmons The temp'rature I think I know Could be one hundred — not below And so my e-mail stops right here... To think, I once was sick of snow! For editor and tech squad peer Some great concern I feel, I fear, As 'fore their windows they do bake Their synapse links begin to sear. Frail shower curtains1 flow and shake The faintest breeze coursing its wake Past clusters three Tripodians deep Crouched with the servers2 for a break. The Village Beautiful I'll keep For rural charm and leaves to peep But while my 'puter clock does bleep O air conditioning would be sweet... Yes, air conditioning would be sweet!

1As a remedy for the lack of window shades, our ever inventive and frugal Bruce bought us shower curtains and rods as an interim solution. 2The room where the servers are kept is the only air conditioned place in our new offices.

Well, the ceiling fans will arrive shortly, and the guilty party has left a pack of seltzer for Bo, so most wounds have been healed. Now, if we could just convince Bruce that we need a snow cone machine...

Stay cool,

Margaret Gould Stewart, Creative Director (6/20/97)

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Read more "Letters from Tripod" in the archive.