Snow Place I’d Rather Be
“Oh, the weather outside is frightful
But, the fire is so delightful
And, since we’ve no place to go
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!”
It’s been over 70 years since that song was written by lyricist Sammy Cahn and composer Jule Styne in 1945, and to this day, nobody has offered a better solution to our weather woes. Sure, the snowbirds have already escaped to parts South, but the rest of us are in it for the long haul. We don’t run and hide; we celebrate the snow bonanza by participating in it.
Looking through the family photos that span many decades, I couldn’t help but notice how many of them were related to snow. One thing became clear: Kids have a way of making the best of what we adults often define as frightful conditions. Growing up has a way of doing that to us, dang it!
As a youngster growing up in the 50s and 60s in southeast Michigan, we got warm behind the snow shovel clearing the long driveway and sidewalks at home. There were no snowblowers or motorized snow removal equipment of any kind. Heck, I don’t recall any plastic implements, either.
However, my dad figured he’d make life easier for us kids when he popped for a snow shovel on wheels. It was red with a double-bar handle and the idea was to manually push it along on small wheels positioned just behind the blade, while it rolled the snow off the walks; it looked like it meant business just sitting there. Unfortunately, that’s about all it was good for – just sitting there. Looking back, it was akin to a fancy, sparkly fishing lure that was good for nothing but “hooking” the fisherman. Nice try dad.
Playtime included some downhill sledding on our Flexible Flyer sleds. They were all steel and wood and we’d slick up the runners with wax before heading to the hills. Actually, there were no good sledding hills in our neighborhood, so on rare occasions, we’d get a ride to the best hill around: the Soapbox Derby hill at 8 Mile and Outer Drive Roads in Warren. We were not permitted to sled down the actual derby track; instead, it was the steep back side of the hill, where a kid could experience the thrill and speed of the self-steering contraptions. For a youngster, there was nothing to compare, but oh, that trudge back up the hill was the only limiting factor to an adrenaline-packed winter day.
Whatever it was that made snow fun before the grown-up in me took over is still with this ol’ boy – even if my latest snowplow doesn’t need my legs and back to power it.
1956 Allis Chalmers IB doing its job
It’s still fun work, if ever there was such an oxymoron.
But, adulthood has its privileges and deer hunting with snow on the ground is one of them. With the late antlerless deer season running from December 18 through January 1 on private land and plenty of white stuff about, there “snow” place I’d rather be than to continue the celebration of the season I’ve learned to love.
Growing old may be mandatory; growing up, not so much.
