Back in the day, when snow was snow, and men were men.
Look at that Guy, my Dad. Where to begin?
Back in the day, I remember snow beginning sometimes as early (it didn’t happen too often, but it happened) as Halloween. And I remember seeing snow come down early into the month of May. (I guess that still happens.)
And, growing up, when snow was snow, and men were men, I remember not seeing grass, it was all covered, the grass was covered, often half a foot or more deep, everyday with snow, for the months of January and February, non-stop, snow cover, snowpack - no going back - Jack. (When was the last time that happened?)
Snow, where I grew up, when I grew up.
We had snow. Snow that stuck. Snow that stayed. I remember.
^^^^^
And Snow Days = No School Days.
They were almost as great as Christmas morning. Glorious.
I remember getting up and barley out of bed, peaking out of my bedroom window - seeing the white stuff coming down, and firing up my radio. I listened. I listened closely, full attention - for the name of My School, the name of my school near the end of the alphabet - There It Is, the Radio Guy said it. On the list, today - YES, school closed.
Hallelujah. Happy Days. (Well, a Happy Day.)
And I remember, often, it was for a time a family tradition, to bake School Closed Today Toll House Cookies.
I’m talking N-E-S-T-L-E-S (they make the very best) chocolate chips, with nuts (chopped walnuts). Fresh out of the oven, warm, soft - heaven (on Earth). For a brief moment, Heaven was a place on Earth.
And then, on the phone with Friends. Plans, almost always the same - sledding of course.
We had a favorite hill just around the corner from my house. We had red rectangular, plastic flex sleds with handles to grab and rounded lips to plow through snow.
Up and down. Up and down that hill we went. Again, again - and - again.
And then we would build jumps. Snow jumps to add - danger, thrill and fun.
Hours of enjoyment. Simple hours of - - - joy.
Home for hot chocolate, usually Swiss Miss. Hot chocolate in foil paper packet. Pour that stuff into a cup of hot water. It came with microscopic, tiny, tiny, marshmallows included.
It worked. It was good enough for government work. We liked it.
Lunch break and then, back to work - Snow Day Work - outside again.
Snow Art.
Snowmen. Snow Angels.
Snow Construction.
Another big winner, best ever fun - snow forts, tunnels in the side of snowpack.
We were transported in imagination. We became Eskimos. Ice Age Boys. Transported in place and time.
^^^^^
Back to that photo. There he is, my Dad.
Where is he standing? With all that snow, it is hard to get good perspective.
Is he standing in the driveway, behind snow cleared from the street? Or, has the plow even made it to our street yet?
I don’t know. I do not know.
This photo was taken sometime in 1966, after a famous (infamous?) blizzard. I don’t think that winter storms had names then. (No marketing. Less promotion.)
I was a little boy. I was there, but I do not remember. I think when I zoom in I can see someone photo bombing, peeking out behind curtains in our living room window.
I read today that 42 inches of snow fell during the course of that storm - Sunday, January 30th until some time on Tuesday, February 1st, 1966.
When snow was snow, and men were men.
And I expect that my Dad did not work, was not able to get to work (Work Canceled?) for at least one day, or two, maybe three?
And while all these, Mother Nature Made, World Stop Days - they were fun for Me, for Us, when we were children. I’m not sure, I am not so sure, that it was so much fun, so much fun and games, for men.
I expect my Dad, knowing my Dad, I would think that he enjoyed the novelty. I expect there was Neighborly Camaraderie. (Camaraderie is a - Best Of - human trait - that shows up - on those World Stop Days.)
But my Dad was an hourly worker. So did he get paid? Can’t get to work. No one can get to work. Did my Dad’s Bosses, Owners of the company that my Dad worked for, did they pay him? Did my Father get paid on snow days?
Having a Family to care for and not getting paid, that’s really bad.
Baby it’s cold outside. Yeah right. Babies to feed, cash needs to flow.
I see this photo and I remember, and I wonder, about all these things, from way back
When snow was snow, and men were men.
Climate and I....
Growing up a Military Brat we never really had time to acclimate to any particular weather.
But grandparents lived in Boonville NY and somehow or another we'd end up back there.
Dad's gone to Vietnam again so there we'd be, but not for long.
Maybe we would end up in TX again where it sometimes rained buckets, you could see it coming from a mile away but it was a warm rain and didn't last long. Not like these days, my sister in San Antonio said it flooded again this week. Weather report says they got 5" in 3 days, a couple hours north near Killeen TX they didn't get a drop.
What I remember about the North Country was the cold more than the snow. The sky would clear and we'd be at zero or subzero or sub sub zero for weeks. The cars wouldn't start, the pipes under the sink in the old farmhouse my brother rented from Grandma would freeze, again. We heated with wood, the fires would die and the house would be at 45 in the morning.
It was the kind of cold Jack London wrote about, the kind of cold that will kill you.
Then back down to south Texas August of 82, were the thermometer would sit at 102° for a month. The little plastic thermometer in my car broke one day, the acrylic lens drooping and the needle pegged at 140.
The kind of heat that would kill you.