How did we ever do without air conditioning.

If the air conditioner was to go out in my house, I think - I know - I would be miserable, but when you don't know you're supposed to be miserable, then you aren't.

It's sort of like not knowing you're poor.

In the house on Atlanta's northwest side where I grew up, near Grove Park off Bankhead Highway, we did not have air conditioning.

Looking back I find this a bit ironic, since Dad worked for a big heating and air conditioning company that installed the giant cool air units that made Atlanta's business community comfortable and no doubt contributed to the growth that made the city the "New York of the South".

Home central units were financially unreachable for most wage-and-hour guys of that era, and window units were large and bulky and also expensive, so we had lots of fans.

Trouble with fans is when it's really hot and humid fans just blow that hot, humid air around, they don't cool it.

Such was my plight as a youngster in the 1950s, but you just used common sense.

You did not mow the yard in the heat of the day, for example, which is something I did not do for fun or very little profit.

Our lot had unusual topography - built on the side of a hill, sort of, on Elmwood Street at the intersection of North Avenue, so cutting that yard in the heat was a challenge.

Oh, I did not know what a motorized lawn mower was either when I began my grass cutting career. We got one later, but I started out with a good old-fashioned push mower. I'm sure they now have examples of this machine in the Smithsonian. It did not take long for me to figure out the best time to mow the grass was in the early morning before the heat went to work for the day or at dusk when the sun's piercing rays had faded a bit.

I was more fortunate than most kids in the neighborhood. Proctor Creek bordered our property and I had my very own private swimming hole - a cool wonderful place on a hot summer vacation day, but you had to be careful.

You could slice open a foot on the glass from broken bottles, hurled into the creek by inconsiderate passing motorists, and, of course, there were the snakes.

That's where I relied on our "dead eye"' neighbor, Mr. "Jabbo" Parker, who lived next door. He could pop the head off a wiggly reptile at 50 yards. He knew where they liked to come out and sun, could sneak up on them, and once he drew a bead with his Winchester Bolt Action .22 rifle, they were history.

"O.K., sport, get down there and cool off, but you be careful, I might not have gotten all of them," he would tell me.

I never did see any snakes after he did his target practice, except for the dead ones of course.

Mr. Jabbo had his own way of cooling off: he had a fishing hole upstream from my swimming hole and was skilled at bringing wiley Brim from the depths with his cane pole and worm bait. Of course he kept the rifle by his side just in case a snake dared make an appearance.

There was another swimming place available to us, the Maddox Park pool, but it was a long walk to get to it and on hot days Proctor Creek was so much more convenient. I spent most of my time there and used that pool when Mom would drop us off at YMCA Day Camp, but that was at the beginning of summer and lasted only a week or so.

Of course we kept the windows open to catch the breeze from summer showers that occurred every so often, and windows in houses were larger then, built BAC - Before Air Conditioning - and I definitely dressed for the weather... lightweight T-shirts and shorts, often no shirt at all, and as much as possible, no shoes, except for canvas sneakers.

I survived all those summers. Never had a case of heat stroke or snake bite, something of a miracle I guess.

I have to admit though, that during this heat wave, I have a keen appreciation for that cool air flowing from the vents scattered throughout my current home.

(Jerry Gunn is a reporter for WDUN NEWS/TALK 550, AM 1240 THE TICKET, MAJIC 1029, and AccessNorthGa.com.)