It has been snowing non stop for over 24 hours. Traffic is curbed, commutes are extended, people are trudging through the streets, plows are swiping, shovelers are grunting and I... am loving it. I love a good dumping of snow. And I do not get to sit inside my cozy little apartment, sipping hot cocoa and dreaming up blog poetry while watching the flakes gracefully float to my windowsill. I hafta leave my apartment shortly and get on a very slow moving subway, schlep across 2 city blocks and then go into work in a HOTEL where I will have to deal with very angry travelers who are immobilized and will treat me as if I had something to do with it. And I will wish I had by the time I am through with them...
My tolerance or even enthusiasm for snow is definitely a sign of having been born and raised in Buffalo, New York. My history and experience with snow is a pretty joyful one. I love snow because I have such wonderful snow memories.
OK, picture it, Buffalo, winter, 1980 something...
I feel like there was just a lot more snowfall in the 80's. In my memory every day between November and May up through 1990 is recalled with mounds of thick, wet heaps of snow piled everywhere!
After a heavy snow fall our neighborhood often became a veritable winter wonderland. Now summertime was always a time for a late night game of hide and seek or a tent sleep out in the backyard but winter always brought you in right at supper time and then you stayed there.
I remember one night (back in, oh we'll say '87 for the hell of it), after a long period of heavy snowfall and pretty well into the evening, the whole neighborhood for whatever reason came out to play. The clouds had cleared and now a bright moon shone making the perfect unmarred, sparkling, mounds of snow look like something from a Rankin - Bass Christmas special. Parents helped each other shovel driveways and dig out cars. We kids, after bundling up into ten layers of clothes AND THEN putting on snow suits and moon boots (can't forget the moon boots!), took the 'hood by storm. We ran wild through the snow filled, partly plowed, traffic-less streets.
I remember being thrilled and terrified as my bestie, Julie Inglut and I sat in the long orange plastic sled while her brother ran as fast as he could, the rope of the sled attached to his waist. This resulted in a collision with a pretty well packed wall of snow created by the plows. This collision of course resulted in tears from both me and Julie. Quickly recovering, snowball fights ensued. Forts were erected and razed, snow was tasted and deemed "really, really good" or "kinda salty". Laughter and screams shot across the crisp, dark blue night air over the whirr of a snowblower and the clack, scrape and dump of many shovels up and down the block.
Of course the evening ended wet and tired, parents remarking on the Campbell's soup-ness of their children. My sisters and I were peeled out of layers of damp clothes and slipped cozily into footy pajamas and warmed up with Swiss Miss.
Buffalo claims to be the 'City of Good Neighbors". It certainly is in a blizzard.
Enjoy the snow and just try not to eat it.
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