Jim Bradshaw: For south Louisiana, a summer like no other

On Aug. 2, 1924, during a sweltering heat wave, Father W. J. Teurlings, then pastor of St. John’s Cathedral in Lafayette, issued a statement to the newspapers: “At the Cathedral a special Novena will be held for rain. … In view of the urgency of the need a large attendance is anticipated.” To add even more to the chances of a shower, Father Teurlings made another announcement: “There will be a picnic for the Children of St. Mary [on] Sunday 3rd at 10 a.m. … It will surely rain.”
It did not rain on that Sunday, or the next, or again until late September. The good pastor’s invocations came in the midst of what may have been south Louisiana’s worst summer ever — until this year.
From July 7 through Aug. 30, 1924, there were 56 consecutive days when the high for the day was above 90 at Lafayette. On 36 of those days the temperature was 97 or higher, and it was above 100 on 11 of those days. During that period, the temperature reached 103 twice,  and the high for the day reached 99 or above ten times in the 13 days from Aug. 15 to Aug. 27.
The hot weather finally broke on the last two days of September, when the temperature mercifully dropped into the 70s.
 This year, Lafayette, and just about every place else in south Louisiana, is already well past 56 consecutive days of 90-plus heat, and there appears to be no end in sight.
The Lake Charles weather office reports that we just suffered through the hottest July on record for south Louisiana and southeast Texas and, “unfortunately, it was also the driest July on record for most of the area as well.” June was also a record-breaker, and the weather service prediction is for a scorching August that will continue the trend.
Weather folk and news people say we are in in the middle of an unprecedented “heat wave.” I suggest that what’s going on is more than a wave.
Waves are short-term events. This ain’t.
It’s been with us too long and apparently intends to stay for a while. Call it something else; maybe a “record heat episode.” I’ll even allow “a prolonged heat event,” although I hate it when forecasters call a little shower a “rain event.”
  The national Weather Prediction Center gave this long-term forecast at the beginning of this month: “High temperatures [along the Gulf Coast] will be 5 to 10 degrees above normal with high humidity leading to heat indices [“feels-like” temperatures] in the 110-115 [degree] range. … Record high maximum … temperatures are widely forecast.”
A sister agency, the national Climate Prediction Center, which looks at the longer-term, says that we are likely to see higher than normal temperatures at least through October, and adds the good news that we can expect widespread and significant drought across the area.
Nor is the really-long-term forecast filled with good news. The state summary for Louisiana issued by the National Center for Environmental Information, which studies this sort of thing, predicts, “Historically unprecedented warming is projected [in Louisiana] during this century,” and that “summer precipitation is projected to decrease.”
“Even if average precipitation remains the same,” according to that report, “higher temperatures will increase the rate of soil moisture evaporation during dry spells, which could increase the intensity of naturally occurring droughts.”
Whatever the long term brings, pay attention to the current spell. Heat is the number one killer of all extreme weather in the United States, and August is the worst month.
The doctors tell us that even an average August is already the most climatically stressful month of the year in south Louisiana. Temperatures are often as warm as the body’s temperature, or warmer. That means that when we work or play outside, we can’t depend on the air around us to cool us off. We have to rely on the body’s ability to cool itself, and we aren’t built to handle crazy heat like this.
Don’t let yourself get overheated or dehydrated. Check on your neighbors. Take care of  your animals. Take a cue from Father Teurlings and pray for rain — but not tropical rain. We want no storms in a Gulf this hot.
You can contact Jim Bradshaw at jimbradshaw4321@gmail.com or P.O. Box 1121, Washington LA 70589.