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Snow Days

Last Friday, I lay sick in my bed.  I was watching News 12 and while contemplating my odd adoration for Joe Rao, I found myself wondering about the falling crystals that lay outside my window.  I put on some clothes, walked to the front door and gazed in wonderment.  This is what they closed school for? 

Rewind to my childhood.  The plow comes down the snowy Brooklyn street and pushes all the snow between the cars where the hydrant was (somehow this was legal in the 70's).  The neighborhood children ran outside with anything they could find to slide on.  Rarely was it an actually sled. We would use cardboard boxes, plastic bags, whatever.  The mountainous pile of snow eventually had a nice track we could literally slide on our asses should we desire.  We'd climb atop the pile and slide, right into the street.  Someone always kept lookout.  Not so much for safety, but every time a bus came down the street, we'd pepper it with snowballs.  Usually scaring the occupants inside. 

Snowfall during my childhood seemed so much different.  It snowed 15-20 times a winter.  The ground would be white for most of the winter months.  Come March, the green in the local parks would start to show.  Nowadays, it's usually hidden for days, maybe weeks.  I remember lumbering to school, those hideous rubber boots on my feet.  My sneakers in my backpack.  I couldn't wait to get those things off of me.  I also couldn't wait to get out of school and get back into the snow.  In those days, a school closing due to snow was about as likely as Sarah Palin making sense.  It might have happened, but I sure as hell wasn't around to experience it. 

I realize we live in a world of blame and lawsuits.  God forbid, little Timmy slips on the ice walking from the bus, his parents will sue the school, the bus company, God and probably Joe Rao.  it's just not worth it for a school to deal with this.  My favorite thing is the early dismissal.  This way the school gets credit for being open, but they don't actually teach.  It's kind of like my college Philosophy class.  My teacher would show up, tell us what to read and then leave.  Most likely to puff on a hookah while listening to Cat Stevens.  I laughed at the slight snowfall.  The hours of news coverage about the "winter blast of 2011."  I've had snow cones after Mexican that created more of a blast.  This was a joke.  Here's my thought.  If it isn't bad enough for you to let your kid go out and play in, it isn't bad enough to close school. 

Here's the other thing I love about winter weather.  When I was a kid, there was a foot of snow on the ground and we needed milk.  My mother wrapped me up like the kid in A Christmas Story and sent me to the store.  We didn't go out shopping the day before expecting Armageddon.  And bottled water?  Grab a bottle, go to the tap and drink, you lazy son of a bitch.  We've become lazy, coddled and neurotic over the years.  My grandmother is 97.  She sees the snow and wants to go out and walk in it.  She has the exuberance of a young child, staring at the window, waiting for permission to frolic. 

Tomorrow morning, when we wake, we're sure to have a blanket of whiteness.  Some of you will curse it. Some of you will relish in it.  Schools will be closed, roads will be slowed.  Some will panic, some will smile.  Like everyone I'll have to dig my car out, only to have a plow come by and push snow right back into my bumper.  Either way, I'll think back to my youth and the excitement that a snowfall brought.

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