Grim Winter (and it's not even winter yet)

outside my study window, right now

Yesterday, I shoveled our walks--twice. Yesterday, I had to clean the car--twice (both times employing a wide floor broom because there was so much winter piled upon that poor car).

I didn't like it.

I've never liked shoveling snow, cleaning cars. Yet since 1956 I've been living in winter-friendly Ohio--except for one academic year, 1978-79, when we were near Chicago, which that year had its worst winter on record. So ... I've been doing lots of shoveling and car-clearing for more than sixty years.

Back in Oklahoma and Texas (where I spent my first twelve years) there was very little of it. In fact, as I think I've said here before, I didn't even know what a Snow Day was until we moved to the Buckeye State. (I came, swiftly, to treasure those days--both as a student and a teacher!)

In fact, the only Winter-Sucks story I can remember from Oklahoma is this one: an ice storm. I thought it was awesome, thought I'd ride our rarely used sled down our hill--out in the street, of course, where I quickly discovered I had absolutely no control over our Flexible Flyer (which, obviously, did not deserve its first name--though it did deserve the second, at least on that day).

So down the hill on East Elm Avenue I ... flew ... until I went under a parked car, where my head met something ... automotive ... and I stopped instantly. And dripped blood and tears into the house.

Ah, but in Ohio, I learned to love a major snowfall because, as I've suggested, it often meant No School. I remember one glorious winter (56-7? 57-58?) when we enjoyed an entire week of Snow Days in Hiram. My mom, who taught in nearby Garrettsville, had only three days off that week, so we had to hear some things about "standards" from her. I detected a note of ... resentment? ... jealousy? ... in her voice.

But not all of it is just a pain in the (frozen) butt.

For I had one consoling thought this morning. I realized that in only about five weeks, it will start getting lighter again!

Of course, much snow will most certainly fall after the solstice, but, out there in the cold, cursing the job, I will (somewhat) soothe myself with this soon-it-will-be-getting-lighter litany.

One of winter's most necessary survival skills: deceiving yourself.