I was looking at pictures from all the snow around the country and I was remembering how much I loved the snow when I was young.
I was born and raised in a small town in southeastern Pennsylvania. This was the 1950’s and I loved the snow. Winters were filled with snow and that meant snowmen by the restaurant and drifts so high you could jump on the roof of the barn behind the restaurant we lived above. It meant digging caves in the snow drifts and bugging my poor mother until she would let me outside with my brother!
It was a time of Lightning Gliders and little red boots. It was a time when roads were closed so kids could sled and hot chocolate was the drink of the day.
I remember my brother teaching me how to “wax up” my sled. It some sort of paraffin wax that my brother got from the kitchen of the restaurant that made his sled glide through the snow a little faster than the kids who didn’t have it.
It was a time when you would pile two or three people on a sled laughing so hard going down the hill that it didn’t matter that you fell off half-way down the hill. You’d lie in the snow and be laughing and making snow angels at the same time. It was days of not a care in the world except getting out in the snow with your friends.
It was being young and loving the cold and the snow in your face. It was snowballs and snow-forts and being so cold your fingers had no feeling in them. It was sitting by the window waiting for the snow to start and then squealing with joy when that first snowflake hit the window. It was running through the apartment looking for sweaters and coats and hats and mittens and those little red boots!
Snow-days of old. I miss them.