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As the rest of the world thaws out and rushes outside to soak in the first rays of spring, Aaron heads the opposite direction—back into the basement. In this episode, he reflects on why warmer days fill him with unease, why solitude has become sacred, and how the quiet chill of winter might offer something we’re all starving for: the right to turn off and just be. A story about temperature, temperament, and tuning out.
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Story created & performed by: Aaron Calafato
Senior Audio Engineer: Ken Wendt
Additional vocals: Cori Calafato
Art: Pete Whitehead
Original Theme Music: thomas j. duke
Additional Soundscape Design: Isaac Gehring
TRANSCRIPT
Aaron Calafato:
Springtime is right around the corner. It’s warmer outside. It’s lighter outside. Flowers are starting to bloom. People are feeling great.
Me, on the other hand? I’m feeling a little down.
Springtime is making me feel… a little down. Now, why is that?
I mean, you’re gonna listen to this and either nod your head and go, “Yeah, I know exactly what you're talking about—you’re not alone, Aaron.” Or you're going to listen and say, “What the hell is wrong with this guy?”
Either way, take this journey with me… right after the music.
When things come out of wintertime and get a little warmer, people lose their minds.
It’s like the greatest thing that’s ever happened. We hit 40 degrees in March—maybe 50, maybe 60. It’s been a warmer winter this year. A little too warm for me… I’ll get into that in a second.
My whole point is: it hits 40 degrees and people start putting on sunscreen and sunbathing on rooftops. The convertibles come out. People are in swimsuits.
It’s 40 degrees. But because people have been waiting so long for the sun—for that warmth to come out of the freeze—it’s a celebration.
Me, on the other hand? I’m going back inside. Into the basement. Waiting until it gets cooler at night.
Now, here’s the thing. The reason I feel this way? It's just part of my natural temperament.
So let’s start there.
My favorite temperature—and anybody in my family is going to groan and say “Oh God, not again,” because I say this weekly—is 58 degrees and partly sunny.
That’s it. 58 degrees and partly sunny.
The “partly sunny” is important. I don’t want full sun. I don’t want direct heat.
I like warmth, sure, but when it’s hot outside, I’m the guy under a tree, looking for shade. Enjoying the light and the warmth… but not the direct stuff.
If I’m at the pool, you’ll find me underneath an umbrella. I’ve got sunglasses on. I’m covered up.
I just don’t like the heat. I never have.
What I love about 58 degrees and partly sunny is that it’s a perfect balance. It's cool. You can wear a T-shirt. You can wear a hoodie at night. It gets nice and cold when the sun goes down. The sun warms the earth during the day. Perfect.
But something’s changed.
It used to be that I loved both spring and fall because that’s where those 58-and-partly-sunny days tend to land.
Now? I think I’m starting to like fall and winter best. And I’m starting to feel… a little down about spring.
First off, I’ve been able to enjoy winter more—because I finally started dressing like an adult.
And this presupposes that you have a coat. That you have socks. That you have a few extra sweatshirts. For those who don’t have that, I understand. But if you're fortunate enough to own warm clothes: wear them.
I had to teach myself that. I used to go out like my teenagers do now—wearing just a T-shirt in January, freezing.
But once I started dressing for winter? I was like… “Oh. I kind of like this.” Or at least—I can endure it.
That word. Endure.
I like the fact that I have to earn my spring.
I like that, here in the Midwest, we earn our spring. That’s why people go nuts when it hits 40. Because they endured the cold. The tundra. And now? It’s time to emerge.
I love that aspect of it.
And I love my walks. Especially now, in the winter.
I walk about two to three miles a night. All year long. Summer, spring, fall… and now winter.
But here’s what I’ve realized: it’s not just the walk that I love. It’s not just that I’ve come to embrace the cold temperatures.
It’s that… no one else is out.
Seriously. I never realized this before. When I walk during winter in my neighborhood? There’s barely a soul outside—not at night, not during the day.
Now, I live in a neighborhood with some older folks, and I get that if you're elderly, you're staying inside. I also get that some folks are snowbirds—they head to Florida.
But I know that only accounts for maybe 10 or 20 percent of the people here.
There are non-geriatric folks who just don’t come outside. From December until March. Or April.
And I’m not saying they need to go snowboarding or run marathons. I’m saying: I don’t even see them take the trash out. I don’t see them get in their cars.
And one night, it hit me—like a ton of bricks. I asked myself:
Where did everybody go?
And here’s my guilty confession…
I liked it.
I liked the quiet. The meditative walks in the cold. The moonlight hitting the snow. The air—cold and refreshing.
I liked the solitude.
I liked not having to move over on the sidewalk and do the polite “Sorry, excuse me—hope your dog doesn’t bite me” routine. I liked not saying hello to people I don’t know.
And yeah, that made me feel terrible.
So I asked myself: Aaron, why do you like the solitude so much?
Do you… not like people?
But the truth is—I love people. I’m a situational extrovert. I thrive in conversation.
So why?
I think… I figured it out.
We live in a culture where, whether we realize it or not, we are perpetually available.
Because of that computer in your pocket. Or in your hand. Or the one you're scrolling through right now.
I carry one too.
And the fact that we have them… means we're always on. By default.
It means I’m always reachable. And that means: I feel like I should respond. To the call. The text. The meme in the group chat that I don’t care about but feel obligated to react to.
I love connection. I love meaningful conversations. I love planning times to talk or meet up. But I don’t love the constant pressure to be available. All the time.
I think that’s why I love winter now.
I think that’s why I’ve embraced my nightly walks.
Because in that silence and solitude—I reclaim a little of myself.
I get to turn off.
And when I do that… when I really turn off?
It makes the times I connect with others more meaningful.
I appreciate it more.
And I think I’m a better person because of it.
So enjoy the springtime. It’s coming. It’s right around the corner.
And here’s to warmer temperatures…
Preferably 58 degrees and partly sunny.
