To the best of my recollection, it was my Great-Uncle Paul Goldsworthy who gave the first warning I ever heard about “climate change.”

I hesitate to call it “global warming,” in deference to those poor people in Wisconsin and other places who had record amounts of snow this winter.

I also hesitate to say that we have had another fairly mild winter — one that might be indicative of global warming — for the same reason I hate to say things like “I think the worst is over now,” “Don’t worry about it,” or “What else can go wrong?”

It’s still March, and some of our most horrible snowstorms have come in March, when we thought “the worst was over.” What people called “The Blizzard of the Century” and “The Great White Hurricane” struck in March 1993.

I worked night shift that weekend and spent Sunday afternoon shoveling out the business end of my driveway so I could find it on Sunday night.

However, by the time I got home, it was completely blown shut with deep snow. I plowed in and hoped for the best, but missed the driveway altogether. With my 4X4 Bronco stuck up to the top of its hood, I wound up with a winch cable stretched across Piedmont Avenue at midnight, beseeching the Lord not to let anyone try to drive through there until I’d gotten my ride extricated.

The other thing is, today is Easter, and Grandmother Goldsworthy believed winter was never over until we had an Easter Storm — that is, some kind of snowfall on Easter Sunday or thereabouts. (As I was writing this on Wednesday, The Weather Channel extended forecast called for snow showers on Saturday and partly cloudy today.)

That was, however, back in the days before ... climate change. The days when it often snowed in October and some people thought we were actually approaching another ice age.

For reasons no one remembers, Great-Uncle Paul called everyone else in the family “Moose,” and that’s what we called him. The greeting went, “Hey, Moose!” and “Hey, Moose!” Moose introduced me to the concept of eating raw oysters while drinking beer (oysters and whiskey don’t mix, he said), and I’ve always been grateful to him for that.

He was Grandfather Goldsworthy’s brother and a barber by trade, and he may have had more interesting stories than anyone else I’ve ever met.

As a young man, he was engaged to a girl who, judging from photos I’ve seen of her, would be instantly recognizable to those who are old enough or knowledgeable enough as a Roaring 20s “flapper.”

Moose drove his car to California and back during an era when dirt roads greatly outnumbered paved roads. He claimed to have pitched pennies with Diamond Jim Brady and won money from him.

He and my dad, Uncle Abe and Great-Grandfather James slept in the same upstairs room in my grandparents’ house, two to a bed.

As Dad described it in a letter to his cousin Mary Margaret, “There was just enough room between them (the two beds) so we could get in bed. If Abe went to bed first, he slept against the wall. If I went to bed first, I slept against the wall. When Paul came in he had to go between the two beds. Grandfather slept on the outside and had no trouble getting in bed.

“Paul was usually the last one in and most times that would be early in the morning. But I will give this to him. It was never too late for him to get down on his knees and say his prayers. Sometimes he would go to sleep while kneeling with his head on the bed. If Grandfather got awake while he was like that, the fur would fly and it would wake Abe and me with the argument which would ensue.”

I was spending an Easter Sunday with my parents in the early 1980s when Moose came to visit.

As he was leaving, we escorted him out to the front porch and discovered that it was snowing furiously. It was just warm enough that the stuff melted as soon as it landed, and someone remarked that this must be Grandmother’s Easter Storm.

“Huh,” Moose snorted. “We haven’t had any decent weather since they put that (four-word Anglo-Saxonism) on the Moon.”

We thought that was hilarious, but then he added. “You laugh, but you look back and you’ll see I’m right.”

I have thought about it, and maybe he is right. I’ve read about how all of the gunk that a rocket launch puts out can actually affect the weather. Add to this the emissions from airplanes, automobiles, factories and the like, and you can see there might be a problem.

The thing is, America’s industry and vehicles are cleaner now than they’ve ever been. There are just too many people on this planet, and we’re messy. Like Moose said, “Look back and you’ll see” it is affecting the climate.

Warmer or not, it’s still winter, and I’m sick of it. It’s been wet, windy, cold and miserable. Too many of my friends and I have had some version of the flu that makes you cough so much that, as a lady friend of mine says, “You feel like you’ve done 1,000 crunches.” People have asked me if I was taking anything for it, and I said, “Yeah. Immodium.” (Well ... it might actually make sense.)

I’ve had enough of bronchitis and sinus infections and am ready for sunshine and spring and regular allergies.

But today is Easter. And for those of us who follow the teachings of the one who died so we won’t have to, today is what it’s all about ... hope that overcomes any darkness.

May peace, warmth and light be with you.