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My kind of meteorologist
Secrets of Cecily Tynan, weather queen
Perry Block
Cecily Tynan has been the reigning queen of Philadelphia TV weather almost since the day she arrived at WPVI Channel 6 in 1995. With her near-flawless features, dazzling smile and strawberry blonde hair, Cecily is nothing less than the physical embodiment of that perfect day in late spring where your children are happily frolicking with their friends, you're playing Frisbee in the park with your dog, and yesterday you won the lottery.
Every night about 11:15, Cecily invades my TV screen. "Jim, it's going to be hot," she pronounces, following the lead-in from the ageless anchorperson Jim Gardner. "Sweltering …. broiling …. steaming hot!"
But of course. With Cecily, my temperature and barometric pressure are always rising! Come to think of it, now that Tastykake is moving to Georgia, Cecily is the best reason for any male past puberty to move to Philadelphia.
Ironically, women love Cecily almost as much as guys do. Since she possesses a face and form that synchronize magically with any old thing she might throw on, the Channel 6 producers have wisely dressed Cecily in a variety of designer duds that stimulate animated conversations between husbands and wives who otherwise might have run out of things to talk about years ago. For instance:
She: "Doesn't Cecily look stunning in that smart burgundy blouse accentuated by the paisley Hermes scarf and matching opal jewelry and earrings?"
He: "I guess. But I just want to see her naked."
The unintended side benefit of tuning in regularly to Tynan is that it keeps you abreast of the weather. If it's going to rain, I've got my umbrella in hand. Cold? Come morning, my woolliest winter sweater's a-washed and a-waitin'. Ninety degrees? I dig out the sunglasses, lotion and the number of the nearest Emergency Room.
Because Cecily commands my devoted attention, I take better care of myself. Had the avuncular Philadelphia forecasters of my youth— Dr. Francis Davis and Wally Kinnan the Weatherman— remained on the tube, I've have died of pneumonia long ago.
But these encomiums all beg the $950,000 question (or whatever figure Cecily deservedly earns):
Is Cecily meteorologically accurate? Does her Blizzard of the Century ever turn out to be drizzling, partly cloudy, with highs in the 50s? Has her five-day forecast ever failed to correctly predict the name of the day after tomorrow?
Well, here's how I see it: If Cecily Tynan predicts a balmy breeze with highs in the 70s and instead we get a plague of locusts, who cares?
It's always sunny in Philadelphia …. with Cecily.♦
To read a response, click here.
Every night about 11:15, Cecily invades my TV screen. "Jim, it's going to be hot," she pronounces, following the lead-in from the ageless anchorperson Jim Gardner. "Sweltering …. broiling …. steaming hot!"
But of course. With Cecily, my temperature and barometric pressure are always rising! Come to think of it, now that Tastykake is moving to Georgia, Cecily is the best reason for any male past puberty to move to Philadelphia.
Ironically, women love Cecily almost as much as guys do. Since she possesses a face and form that synchronize magically with any old thing she might throw on, the Channel 6 producers have wisely dressed Cecily in a variety of designer duds that stimulate animated conversations between husbands and wives who otherwise might have run out of things to talk about years ago. For instance:
She: "Doesn't Cecily look stunning in that smart burgundy blouse accentuated by the paisley Hermes scarf and matching opal jewelry and earrings?"
He: "I guess. But I just want to see her naked."
The unintended side benefit of tuning in regularly to Tynan is that it keeps you abreast of the weather. If it's going to rain, I've got my umbrella in hand. Cold? Come morning, my woolliest winter sweater's a-washed and a-waitin'. Ninety degrees? I dig out the sunglasses, lotion and the number of the nearest Emergency Room.
Because Cecily commands my devoted attention, I take better care of myself. Had the avuncular Philadelphia forecasters of my youth— Dr. Francis Davis and Wally Kinnan the Weatherman— remained on the tube, I've have died of pneumonia long ago.
But these encomiums all beg the $950,000 question (or whatever figure Cecily deservedly earns):
Is Cecily meteorologically accurate? Does her Blizzard of the Century ever turn out to be drizzling, partly cloudy, with highs in the 50s? Has her five-day forecast ever failed to correctly predict the name of the day after tomorrow?
Well, here's how I see it: If Cecily Tynan predicts a balmy breeze with highs in the 70s and instead we get a plague of locusts, who cares?
It's always sunny in Philadelphia …. with Cecily.♦
To read a response, click here.
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