Winters get chilly living in Corona del Mar

Several weeks ago, my furnace went out. Now, to someone living in

Minnesota, hearing someone in Southern California complain about the

lack of a furnace might seem absurd. After all, Minnesota registers

much lower temperatures, but people in Minnesota are prepared for

those temperatures. Their houses are insulated, their clothes are

insulated. From the pictures I’ve seen, most of them are insulated.

Also, they have great big piles of wood so that if their furnace

should go out, they can build big, warm fires in their fireplaces.

Here, we have none of those things. My house is 50 years old and

doesn’t have an ounce of insulation any place, and it’s been so long

since I used the fireplace, I’d be afraid to start a fire in there.

On those damp, gray days when the sun never emerges, the house gets

cold and would stay cold if it were not for the forced air furnace.

The first thing I do most mornings is plod down the hall, turn on

the thermostat and then jump back into bed while things warm up. By

the time I’m ready for breakfast, the house is a reasonable, Southern

California summer temperature, and I can read the morning paper in

comfort. So imagine my horror the morning I went down the hall,

turned the thermostat on and nothing happened.

I could see the headlines, “Man Freezes in Corona del Mar.” I sent

out an alarm, and various family members arrived with various spot

heaters. Let me tell you, a small electric heater is no substitute

for a furnace. I had one in my bedroom, one in the living room and

one in the kitchen. In the morning, I would reach out gingerly and

turn that heater on, pulling my arm back quickly under the covers.

After enough time, I would get up and try to get dressed in the

2-foot area of heat, then go down the freezing hall as quickly as I

could and huddle in front of the kitchen heater while I made my

breakfast, then another dart to the living room, where I sat as close

to the heater as I could without setting myself on fire.

Meanwhile, I tried to get someone to come out and fix the furnace.

The last time anything happened to it, the fellow who fixed it told

me never to call him again. This was not because I was unpleasant to

him. It’s because the architect for some reason located the furnace

under the house, which means that there’s about 3 feet of head space.

Plus, to get to that 3 feet of head space, you have to get through an

opening about 18-by-24-inches. This places certain size limitations

on repair personnel.

The first repairman who came probably could have squeezed through,

but he declined to make the effort. He flashed his light into the

opening, said the furnace couldn’t be fixed and then began

speculating where in the house I might locate a new furnace. I

blanched -- not at the thought of the construction but at how long I

would continue to be without heat while the construction took place.

Fortunately, I got a second opinion, a man who actually went under

the house and managed to repair the thing.

I am once again a happy man, able to move through my house without

fear of contracting chilblains. Of course, I may die of shock when I

get my electrical bill.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge.

His column runs Tuesdays.