Anticipation
It’s funny the things we look forward to. Tomorrow is Superbowl Sunday, I have a book coming out, and we are supposed to get a wikkid big snow storm for the first time in a few years. Most of America will be thinking about and looking forward to Superbowl and the Superbowl parties. I can’t blame them, who doesn’t love seven layer dip and all the Superbowl party foods?
I have a book coming out in a slightly less than a month. That’s always pretty great. Just writing a book is great, but knowing that it will be released, well that’s very great.
Overnight, while we sleep, in this sleepy segment of New England, 4-8 or 5-9 inches of snow are to fall. The last two winters have been a little bit underwhelming in the snow department. I am no scientist but I am pretty sure it has to do with climate change.
I love the snow. I like snow shoeing. I like camping in the snow. I actually enjoying clearing it out of my driveway. It all goes back to being a kid. I loved going up to my grandparents house in Vermont. Winters were cold, not Siberia cold, or Alaska cold, but cold enough. Their house was built into a hill and my older brothers and I would sled down it in the back yard. The angle was steep and worse still after we made a ramp of snow to the patio that was three feet above the yard.
Our preferred sled was a Flexible Flyer that was probably made before the Tet Offensive. The only acceptable way to pilot it was laying on your belly, face first steering as best as one could. Hence the scar below my lower lip that I got when my brothers put me on it as a toddler and launched me down hill. I wasn’t good at the steering part and have been told I bit through my lip. Things happen and I ended up with a cool looking scar.
I love the snow. I love the way it quiets everything down. Slows everything down. I love the way it helps identify the good drivers from the bad. I love how the snow covers up the imperfections, the warts and flaws and gives everyplace a chance to be pretty for at least a few hours.
As kid, we loved the snow. Snowball fights. Playing in the snow, pretending we were Arctic explorers or reliving scenes from Ice Station Zebra. The snow meant adventure. It also held the promise of the Snow Day. That magical day, when school was cancelled. We could sleep in, husbanding our energy so we could go out and play in the snow. We would stay until frostbite was legitimate concern.
If I sound like an old man, waxing nostalgic for a better, simpler time, that is because I am.