Friday, February 26, 2010
The Conundrum of Snow
Snowman-Larry does most of the heavy lifting of snow moving at our house. Notice that I said moving, not removal. It doesn’t really go away; it’s not removed. Like blame, it just gets shifted. He moves it from the paved areas to the top of the snow mounds that he created back in the autumn. Those mounds are in areas where I think that that there may be grass. By February, it’s hard to remember.
Sometimes, in the spirit of team play, instead of just standing in the window watching him do all of the work, I suit up and join him outdoors to help with the task. My role is that of the finisher. I fine-tune the areas that he has mostly-cleared. Lately, during those stints, I’ve taken to considering the snows of my life. It seems to be the classic love/hate relationship.
On the one side of the argument, there is Thomas J. Watson:
Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow,
Filling the sky and earth below, . . .
Dancing,
Flirting,
Skimming along.
Contrast that with Carl Reiner’s: “A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.”
Growing up in the South, snow was a rare and magical thing. Snow falling in the night was the most magical. Go to bed: normal, grey winter. Wake up: that lovely, blue-white-snow-light bouncing off of a world made soft and rounded by snow that covered the earth like white, winter kudzu. One time, I remember it snowed what seemed like an incredible blizzard, probably about 8”, and life came to a complete and quiet halt. Nothing to do but go into the yard in my rustley-sounding snowsuit and use the snow, an amazingly adaptable material, to build a snow dog, man, fort or any creation that caught the imagination. (How I hated those “leggings” part of the snowsuit on normal, non-snow days! You would arrive at school, take them off, and the skirt of your dress would be mussed and wrinkled for the entire day.)
Here in Michiana, it’s not like that. The snow definitely is not rare. Most years, the Snow Belt is buckled around us as early as November and “Give us this day our daily snow” becomes the refrain. Oh, it can be magic, but the repetition of the trick dulls our delight. New snows cover “used” snows and give the occasional fresh, clean illusion. By March though, familiarity indeed has bred contempt. “Disgusting filth” is a mild description of the visual of months-old snow encrusted with salt and sand and road dirt. Even the thought that “large dollars,” i.e. at least twenties, might come rolling out of the melting mountains doesn’t do much to inspire joy. Just a winter or two of real-life experience breeds a cynicism by showing that at best, the occasional, barely-recognizable penny is the yield. The experience is similar to the current interest rates on money-in-the-bank: hardly worth the effort.
Counter that experience with the positive health effect. Soon after my move to Michiana, as I became accustomed to daily snow shoveling, I hypothesized that if I didn’t fall over dead immediately from the exertion, it might cause me to live forever. Anecdotally, I observed robust, 80-year-olds out there throwing snow. Heartening.
My son swears that when he was living in southwest Indiana, he heard a weathercaster exclaim with astonishment, “My God! It didn’t even snow in South Bend today.” So, as you grumble and crawl out of your igloo here near the end of this bumper-crop snow season, think about how special having survived it makes you. Lift high your snow shovel and feel proud that we, the snow-shifters, are admired as a tough and vigorous people.
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A random pick from more than 460 Michiana Chronicles -- refresh the browser to see another set:
April Lidinsky -- More essays by April
Joe Chaney -- More essays by Joe
Ken Smith -- More essays by Ken
Jeanette Saddler Taylor -- The Conundrum of Snow / More essays by Jeanette
Heather Curlee Novak -- More essays by Heather
David James -- More essays by David
Elizabeth Van Jacob -- More essays by Elizabeth
Jeff Nixa -- More essays by Jeff
Louise Collins -- More essays by Louise
Jonathan Nashel -- More essays by Jonathan
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About the series
Michiana Chronicles is a series of radio essays by Jonathan Nashel, Louise Collins, Joe Chaney, Jeanette Saddler Taylor, Jeff Nixa, April Lidinsky, Ken Smith, Heather Curlee Novak, David James, and Elizabeth Van Jacob.
Michiana is the region of north-central Indiana and southern Michigan roughly centered on South Bend, Indiana.
Michiana Chronicles airs on Fridays at 7:35 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. on WVPE (88.1 FM), the home of public radio in Elkhart / South Bend, Indiana.
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