Hey Alabama, Is It Cold Enough For Ya?

It's time for one of our favorite contributors here at Townsquare Media Tuscaloosa, the one and only Russell Estes, everybody's favorite "cuz".

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He's a frequent radio guest and a bestselling author who everybody in the South (especially in Alabama) loves and can't wait for his next book!

Have you had enough of the cold in West Alabama? I didn't sign up for these bitterly cold temperatures.

OK, Russell, what say you?

If you’ve walked the University of Alabama campus lately, you might be forgiven for thinking Tuscaloosa has quietly relocated somewhere north of the Mason-Dixon line—perhaps to a wind-swept suburb of Minneapolis. Students roam the Quad bundled in insulated Lululemon and Ugg boots so thick you’d swear there were German shepherds strapped directly to their feet. Scarves are wrapped with the seriousness of battlefield bandages, and noses are tucked down like shy turtles.

“Holidays on the Plaza” should’ve packed up weeks ago, yet here we are, half-expecting an ice-skating rink to pop up in the Dollar General parking lot next to the discount pool noodles. The cold has driven us indoors, where we hibernate like bears with Wi-Fi, spending heroic amounts of time staring into the little glowing screens in our hands, thumbs twitching for warmth and validation.

Now, this Arctic blast feels rude—personal, even—but it isn’t new. Every year, without fail, a few days of brutal northern air come barreling down I-59 and settle in like an uninvited cousin. It’s the kind of cold you’d normally only find inside the MAPCO beer cooler. And every year we swear it’s colder than ever, longer than ever, and more repetitive than the Crimson Tide fight song.

But is it?

History suggests otherwise. Alabamians have been throwing extra dogs on the bed for generations. Take January 27, 1940, for instance, when Tuscaloosa dropped to a mind-numbing –10°F. Negative ten. The Black Warrior River froze solid under five to eight inches of ice. Bass fishermen nearly entered a collective mourning period, standing on the banks wondering what sins they’d committed.

Fast-forward to the modern era, when technology advanced, but dignity did not. On January 21, 1985, the Tuscaloosa Regional Airport recorded –1°F during a major Arctic outbreak, putting unprecedented strain on insulated underbritches across West Alabama. Men who’d once faced tornado warnings without blinking suddenly questioned their life choices.

And just last year—February 4, 2025—the mercury dipped to a brisk 9.8°F, sending locals scrambling for fuzzy socks and hot beverages with brand loyalty bordering on religious.

This isn’t global warming, nor is it glaciers sneaking across Lake Tuscaloosa under the cover of darkness. It’s not caused by coal emissions nor the stock rise of bottle rockets. This isn’t some feeble attempt from the Stanley Company to get you to buy more insulated coffee cups. It’s not a government weather machine, chemtrails, or a conspiracy cooked up by Big Fleece. It’s the weather. Plain and simple. Good old Mother Nature, doing what she’s always done: reminding us who’s in charge.

She hasn’t changed much. Maybe we’ve just grown accustomed to staying inside, wrapped in blankets, scrolling away the cold while history chuckles softly and reaches for another quilt. As these little handheld devices have advanced, we seem to find more excuses to stay inside. So if Mother Nature hasn’t changed… guess who has.