Remember that great line from one of Clint Eastwood's Dirty Harry movies? He was asking the perp if he remembered how many bullets Eastwood had fired.
Well, the recent blast of artic cold reminds me of a time I was driving a truck for the old Evening Bulletin- I worked there for 6-7 years on and off as I meandered to my degree from old Temple University. One of my shifts was early Sunday in the wee A.M. hours. One frigid night in 1977 or 1978, it had been cold for weeks and there was ice everywhere. I drove my truck out of the plant at 32nd & Market and drove around the 30th Street Station and saw a bunch of fire and police vehilces clustered next to the river.
I stopped and asked a bystander what had happened. He told me someone jumped off the bridge and into the river (suicide attempt) but because it was so cold, the river was frozen solid and the jumper did not die but broke both his legs. And every so often I wondered if the jumper felt lucky that day?