Let It Snow

We’ve gotten a lot of snow this winter here in the Northeast. The way people have been talking, you’d think we’ve been getting two to three storms per week, though if I really think back, that has happened only a couple of times. People I know, and even some I don’t know, have complained to me about the snow. It seems that a lot of people are sick and tired of the snow.

We haven’t really gotten that much snow the last couple of winters so maybe people are out of practice when it comes to winter, but come on, we live in the Northeast and it’s winter! It’s going to snow and it’s not always going to be at a convenient time. I get it to a certain point; you have to clear the walkway and the driveway, you have to clean off the cars, and then you have to drive to or from work in a snowy mess. It’s not all fun and games as an adult like it was when we were kids.

It seems to me that we used to get more snow when I was growing up than we do now. I don’t remember many winters where there wasn’t a decent amount of snow or when we weren’t able to be skating on the ponds. That was just part of growing up – or was it? I looked back and found a website that listed the annual snowfall in Boston, MA by month. Covering the years from when I can actually remember things up through high school, this is what I found:

 Season       Total (inches)

1966-67         60.1

1967-68         44.8

1968-69         53.8

1969-70         48.8

1970-71         57.3

1971-72         47.5

1972-73         10.3

1973-74         36.9

1974-75         27.6

1975-76         46.6

1976-77         58.5

1977-78         85.1

1978-79         27.5

Throw out 1972-73 as an outlier (what happened that year?) and 1977-78 (“The Blizzard of 1978” skewed those numbers) and we’ve averaged 46.3 inches per season. This season we’ve gotten 42 inches, so I’d say we’re pretty much average this year. Maybe some whiners around here need to get out and do some fun stuff in the snow instead of cursing their very life for living where it snows. Maybe the adults need to go back to their childhood and have some fun.

Winter didn’t stop us from going outside and having fun when we were growing up. We went skating, we went sledding, and we built snow forts and had snowball fights. We played Alaska, a game where we pretended we were in Alaska, caught in some huge blizzard, and we had to rescue someone. We made noises that we thought sounded like the wind, we threw snow up in the air to make it be like it was snowing out of control. We pretended we were rolling down the side of a mountain or, gasp, falling over the side of a cliff! Lucky for us, we had our buddies with us to keep us from plunging to our deaths.

We didn’t complain about the snow, that’s for sure. The more the better as far as we were concerned. It gave us more choices of what to do. And that’s what it comes down to for all the people who’ve been whining about the snow – choice. You can choose to see the negative (clearing the driveway, cleaning off the cars, driving in the snow) or you can choose to see the positive (the beauty of the bushes, trees, and lawns coated in white, sledding, skiing). I’m choosing to let my inner (winter) child enjoy the snow.   

A Fat Cat

We have a 16-year old cat, named Benjamin, which means he’s over 100 years old in human years. You can see that he is getting older. He’s got a cat belly that hangs down, he has trouble going up and down stairs, and sometimes when he meows nothing comes out. Despite all that, I want to age like my cat.

If I was like Benjamin as I got older, this is what a typical day would look like for me:

I would sleep until someone gets up to give me some food, and if no one is downstairs before a specified time each day, say 9:00, I would sit at the bottom of the stairs and yell, “Hey! Hey you! I’m HUNGRY so come and feed me. I know you’re up there, so come give me some food. A little water would be nice, too, preferably without hair in it. Hello? Are you listening? Hello?” At that point, having expended the energy I have before breakfast, I would go lie down again and wait for someone to get up. Maybe I’d even go back to sleep again.

When someone finally got up to feed me, I would run to the table and sit down with great expectations for the morning meal. However, once the food was brought and I realized it was the same thing I had for the last 4,357 days, I would start complaining. “This is it?” I’d say. “This is what I’ve been patiently waiting for?” I’d look from the plate to the person who brought the food a couple of times, give it a little stir with a fork, maybe give it a little sniff, and then just sit there for a bit. “You know, you’ve given me the same thing every day for the last…” (Being old I wouldn’t remember how many days it had been) “…month and I’m tired of this” I’d say.

When it became apparent that I wasn’t going to get anything else, I’d start eating. After a few bites I would go sit on the couch and talk loudly, to no one in particular, about what was going on in my world. “You know, I really didn’t sleep that well last night. You left me down here all by myself all night, and my bed isn’t the most comfortable thing I’ve ever been on. Then I have to wait FOREVER for my breakfast and you give me the same old, BORING food. Well, I’m not going to eat that slop!” After looking around and seeing nobody listening to me, I’d go back to the table, eat some more food, and drink my orange juice. After going to the bathroom, I’d probably go back to sleep, being tired from all that eating and complaining.

Around noon, I’d get up and eat a little lunch, drink some water, go to the bathroom again, and then I’d walk around the house talking to myself. “Why does it always seem like no one is around? Where is everybody? Hello? IS ANYBODY HERE? Hello?” I’d suddenly stop, overcome by a horrible thought. “Oh my gosh. Maybe it’s me! Maybe nobody likes me! I’ve become a crotchety old man. What am I gonna do?” After realizing that was crazy talk, I’d walk around the house once or twice more, mumbling something unintelligible, and then I’d go back to sleep. What else am I going to do all afternoon?

After sleeping for most of the afternoon, I’d somehow force myself to get up. As soon as I saw another human, I would run to the table, waiting for my next meal to come. If they walked past me, I’d yell after them, “Hey. Hey you! I’m hungry here. Can’t you see I’m waiting for some food? Don’t you just ignore me and walk away! Hey…HEY!” Thinking quickly, I would go after them and endear myself to them. I’d go sit close to them and in a soothing voice I’d ask them how their day was, how things were going. I’d stare intently into their eyes, waiting for their answer. If one wasn’t coming, I’d put my hand on their leg until they gave me their attention or pushed me away…whichever came first. Then I’d go back to the table and wait for dinner, elbows on the table, sour face in my hands.

After eating, I’d get myself cleaned up and then I’d go to bed, having dreams of being a young, frisky guy again. I’d be scoring an amazing goal or getting the game winning hit as the crowd went wild – until I realized the noise was just my thunderous snoring that woke me up. I’d turn over and then sleep until someone came to give me breakfast and we’d start all over again.

If I live to be as old as Benjamin I’ll probably have a belly that hangs down, I’ll have trouble going up and down stairs, and there may be times where nothing comes out when I speak. As long as someone brings me some food, I should be okay.