I am fairly superstitious, so I hope that writing this does
not jinx the relatively mild winter that we’re all enjoying.
But, as I write, it is a chilly, grey
typical January day. Yet, just a few weeks ago, I was doing yard work in
shorts and a tee shirt. My bulb plants have broken ground. There has
been no snow-here I go jinxing us again.
Call it global warming or whatever you
like. It’s just plain weird!
My daughter told me that she heard on
the news that by the year 2025, the national ski industry will be in
serious trouble. That statement led me to regale her with some stories
of my youth. My stories bored her, I’m sure. But I was led into
remembering…
We did not have snow flurries, nor did
we get the dustings of today which drive us to the grocery store in mere
panic. Instead, we go buckets of the white stuff that blew and drifted
for days. And we weren’t snowed in for a day. We were snowed in for a
week. We cursed the plows when they finally came by instead of searching
out the window for them to appear one-hour into a storm.
The only thing the plows were good for
was to smooth the road surface for sledding, and the sledding snow
stayed packed and glistening for at least a week after the storm passed.
We made good use of it, too, belly flopping onto our Red Flyer sleds
time after time.
Today, Sam waits for the school bus in
a sweatshirt. If it’s a cold day, he may put his hood up. When I was a
child, I went to school bundled with mittens, hat, and parka, good
enough for Alaska. And oh yes! Remember leggings? It usually took about
thirty minutes to undress once you got to school.
Once, when Laurie was about ten, a storm turned our yard into an ice
rink. I happened to have my sister’s old skates which I dutifully tied
onto Laurie’s feet and sent her out to enjoy herself, while I followed
armed with my video camera. I filmed the event…all five minutes of her
slipping, sliding and falling too many times to name. My boys have never
ice skated.
And yet, ponds used to freeze for the
entire winter. We’d skate every chance we got, practicing figure eights
and playing whip until we couldn’t feel our toes anymore and our faces
were near frostbite.
In fact, I remember skating on Lake
Narraticon back when it was simply Swedesboro Lake. When the sun went
down, bonfires were constructed right in the middle of the lake to
provide light and a little warmth.
I only went skiing once, with my
sister. After about five minutes of beginner lessons, my sister took off
with the instructor, for some private lessons, I think.
Mind you, I am not complaining about
this mild weather, although I am quite concerned about its cause.
So I told Laurie that someday, she may
be telling her children or grandchildren about skiing, and they’ll look
at her with blank expressions and innocently ask, “What’s skiing?”
P.S. The morning after writing this I
awoke to the remnants of a nighttime storm which left a dusting of the
white stuff, and caused school to be delayed one hour. Just wanted to
warn you, I may have jinxed us after all.
Sorry about that!
