The Bologna Blog

Snow many memories

These are the type of days that cause me to reminisce, you know, the blistering cold, hide your head under the blanket, do nothing but wait for the predicted storm to roll in, kind of days. It is always a toss of the coin as to whether the predictors will get it right or Mother Nature will withhold the flaky fortunes or pummel them into submission with unrelenting snow. I remember as a kid waiting for the first flake to fall and believing that magic was about to dance right out of the clouds. At the mere mention of snow, I would dig out every hat, glove, boot, and sled ever to grace our closets. It seemed as if I could smell and taste the flakes before they had even fallen, and for a small part of our childhood, time would stand still. And the stage would be set for a jaunty romp through fields of joyous laughter, memory-making, castle-building, sled-sliding, snowball to the face dream-away days.

Waking up to snow blasted windows was magical in itself. It was the only time that you experienced the excitement of dashing outside to use, for the first time, the ruler buried in your backpack, that your parents bought at the beginning of the school year. The hard plastic, white lined, 12 inch tool meant for math problems would suddenly transform into a beaker of scientific importance with the ability to make or break a child’s heart. Tradition had my brother and I, as the youngest of the brood, racing out the door to measure the snow banks. If we measured anything above 4 inches we called it good and returned to the indoors to await the official verdict. That announcement would come from some older guy planted in a square box standing in front of a map. We all gathered to watch the television, wrapped tightly in our blankets, squirming with impatience for the screen to scroll around to the “H’s”. There was some aggravation because of all the schools in the area that started with “Holy and the fact that you might miss it and have to go through the whole list once more. Mom busied herself in the kitchen, cooking a kettle of water for hot chocolate and laid out the marshmallows awaiting our screams of delight. She somehow always knew before us what the verdict would be, but she never spoiled the fun.

By nature, I was always a rule follower, not a super star in the grade department, but I turned my homework in when expected. Yet, on snow predicted days, I turned into a rebel and pushed the homework off until the magical tomorrow of never-never land. If my magical snow day disappeared, I would sweat bullets the whole darn day, but I wouldn’t trade my blanket covered dreams for anything.