Oddly Enough, I Didn't Seem to Mind

Only in the upper Midwest could 40˚ degrees feel warm - of course that’s because it presented itself early in February; a time better known for eye-blinding whiteness.

My memory, although not what it use to be, is still amazingly sharp. And in no way do I remember having winters like the ones we’ve been having, during my younger years. As I’ve mentioned before, my winters were spent buried under, not just one, but numerous blankets of thick snow. The struggle and danger, inherent to such, was common place. 

The snowbanks were always high enough to allow for a challenging game of King of the Mountain. Or, as in my case, if one wanted to sit high within a tree, there was no need to fuss with shimmying up the trunk. Instead, all one had to do was walk up the snowbank that lined the road (where said tree was located), and within minutes be perched like a hawk high on a limb, watching the cars drive by.

Even though the winters were intrepid, no one in my class had high-end arctic snow clothes. Never once was an elementary student seen walking onto the playground with Patagonia or The North Face emblazoned upon their jacket. 

Except for the rare occasion, most everyone was outfitted by the likes of Sears, JC Penney, Montgomery Ward or Kmart. Oddly enough, even while tromping around in polar conditions, we did just fine in our bargain priced, seemingly subpar, winter gear. No one required -30 below skin protecting fabric. I for one remember being soaked a great deal of the time. I never knew I could complain.

Now when there’s a storm circling on the horizon, I enjoy sitting and listening to the local weather forecasters; they seem so excited. I often wonder what they would’ve said had they been the ones forecasting during the winters of my youth. I’m quite sure, given their response to today’s weather; they would’ve had a cardiac event right on the air.

Simply put, we seemed to endure winter better a few decades back. I for one, use to spend so much time diving into snowdrifts, one could easily be confused by my overt attempts to avoid all things snow related now. My brother and I never missed an opportunity to drag our sleds to some distant hill. We gathered our friends and zoomed down the neighbors hill whenever we were given the chance. And when his hill grew boring, we crossed the road and proceeded to sled down the tree covered hill next door. Of course, the perilousness of having to avoid numerous trees while we swished and swooshed downward only added to the fun. Until my brother bonked his head. I feared he would die. And when the doctor advised that someone stay up with him to ensure he didn’t fall asleep, and subsequently slip into a coma (or at least that’s how my young mind understood it), I was the first on duty. He was the only brother I had, I couldn’t lose him.

Winters were always fraught with mayhem and adventure. No one gave it any thought. Now a few inches of snow, and we’re all running for cover (including me). My kids would faint if they had to experience something as tumultuous as the Blizzard of ’78.

Sane