Snowy Memories
Battle Creek, MI: Pulling back the curtain from the sleeper berth a few moments ago, I see my first snow of the season. It's 25 degrees out. A blanket of white has been draped on the parking lot. But it's still a work in progress with the flakes flying about at a pretty good clip thanks to a sturdy breeze. It looks like Mother Nature has a dandruff problem. Only an inch or so has fallen so far, with more expected.
In a few weeks I'll be cursing the stuff, but the first snow is different. It still brings back giddy memories, like the time my little sister and I stood in a snowstorm one morning in the little town of McCaysville, nestled in the mountains of north Georgia. We were waiting for a school bus that wouldn't come. She was in 1st grade I think, and I was in 7th. Mom had clothed us with enough layers to make movement all but impossible, so we weren't cold out there, ...just immobilized. My sister couldn't even put her arms by her side! She looked like a little snowman with two sticks poking out. Me and my trumpet case were completely encased in white, and with all the snow on my glasses, I wouldn't have been able to see the school bus if it had driven up and hit me. And now I've forgotten where I was going with this. ...Oh yes, you see, the radio announcer took his sweet time announcing that school had been cancelled. So by the time Mom got the word, we looked like a couple of ice sculptures out there, Sis with her arms sticking straight out, and me with my trumpet case frozen to my hands. But then Dad came out with a large dolly, of the sort that you would use to haul a refrigerator, and carted us back to the house. I'm just kidding about that last bit actually. I don't think it could have hauled a refrigerator. These are the kinds of memories the first snow always recalls.
But now, duty calls. I have a large sharp tool for breaking the ice. I have some kitty litter to put on the ice to get traction for the tires in case I get stuck. I have food, candles, clothes, time, and a finite supply of patience. I also have a load going down to Georgia. It will be a good day. I insist on it. Time for 18 wheels to roll.
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Comments :
Aug '10
Re: Snowy Memories
So you think that way, too.
For us "God's gone dandruffy again" is an inside family joke. Meaning outsiders don't seem to find the remark terribly entertaining or even comprehensible.
But I'm glad we're not alone.
Re: Snowy Memories
Isn’t it peculiar that almost everyone’s most vivid memory of snow is almost invariably revolving around missing school? Nothing wrong with our school systems, I am sure.
Actually, last year we got the first snow in my life around here in Texas that was just snow. Usually, we get an awful lot of ice and a powdering of snow, but that was such a wonderfully peaceful time—nearly a week of it, all that white and quiet. It took me a while to realize the reason why: it was the first time we had bad weather like this and someone around here’s cow didn’t half-calve and I had to go and help them find it in the woods—walking of course, since it was too slick to drive—carrying a come-along and a big jar of Vaseline, just in case.
Nov '10
Re: Snowy Memories
Lyrical, Dave. My son called from Anchorage a few minutes ago to report, "my truck thermometer says it's -12, no wait, -13, no wait, -14 degrees." The last time they closed the schools there was when it got above freezing and caused ice to form on the surface of the roads. My granddaughters will have drastically different memories of snow from yours.
Jun '10
Re: Snowy Memories
Dang! I probably missed you, but give me a <honk, honk> if you're still in the state. Most especially if you're driving through the Blairsville/Young Harris/Hiawassee area.