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Following the Glanvilles from sea-swept Cornwall —

One day in late August 2015, the weather turned cold and rainy in Cleveland. It was like a preview of late autumn. The temperature was in the low 60s and the sky was overcast.

While everyone around me groused, commiserating about being cheated of summer, I felt exhilarated. I always have, in the face of such days. The moistness, the cool air — they make me feel alive, especially after the deadening (to me) heat of an Eastern U.S. summer.

“Am I the only one who’s energized by weather like this? Cozy and gray like a sweater. Love it,” I posted on Facebook, to immediate derision and amusement (but also some agreement).


Yesss. Plain Dealer file photo.

I got to thinking about what might underlie that, and not for the first time I considered ancestry. Could it be that, while many Clevelanders are of southern European, African or Latino descent, I was longing for the bracing chill and indirect-sun days of my ancestral Britain?


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