What’s With the Weather, Man

What is it with teenagers and umbrellas? Or rather, what is it about umbrellas that repels teenagers?

I grew up in the era of mothers putting galoshes (or “rubbers”) on their kids’ feet when they headed out the door in the morning, whether it was a monsoon or merely a 10 percent chance of drizzle.

My friends and I were all sensible suburban tykes. We didn’t think we’d melt, like the Wicked Witch of the West at the end of The Wizard of Oz. If our parents said “don’t dress stupid in the rain,” we listened.

On an overcast day, if I headed to the garage to prep my bicycle for a trek to high school, my mother would bark, “Don’t you want to walk (and take an umbrella with you)?” I would trudge to school, bumbershoot in hand, often to be used as a fantasy light saber, as we were all entranced post-Star Wars.

I started watching the nightly sports reports when I got to college, which aired just prior to the next day’s weather forecast. I didn’t hesitate in throwing an umbrella into my car if Mr. G said there was a possibility of showers.

If I drove on soggy streets in the morning, I would shake my head (at a prematurely mature 20) in disbelief. As windshield wipers sloshed against near-typhoon torrents, I sped past bus stops where saw kids in shorts and T-shirts looked miserable while they waited to…