The recent ice and snow storm on Jan. 4-5, followed by another round of snow on Jan. 9-10, brought back memories of similar winter weather I experienced as a kid.
Back then, I loved seeing the white flakes drift down. You’d feel like you hit the jackpot when school officials called a snow day.
My friends and I learned the best chance for a day off school due to weather was when a weatherman – it was a nearly all-male profession back then – predicted freezing rain. Even a minimal freezing rain forecast gave you a better chance of a day off than a prediction of half a foot of snow.
Finding out if a snow day had been called was an ordeal back then, when school districts waited until the morning to announce a snow day by reporting the information to radio and TV stations. I always tuned into KMOX for the announcements, huddled around the radio and anxiously awaiting my school district’s name to be read aloud from the long list of closures.
It could be maddening if you had listened to the closure list for 10 minutes and someone in your family coughed or the dog barked just when your school’s name should have been called. You’d then have to listen to the whole list again before getting the wonderful news.
These days, kids only need to check a website to see if they have a snow day. It’s yet another example of the soft life today’s youngsters live. At least that’s how this crabby, old boomer sees it.
Still, I’m sure today’s students are just as delighted to get a snow day, anticipating a thrilling day ahead.
When I was really young, my folks would take us sledding at the old bear pits in Carondelet Park in our south St. Louis neighborhood. It was a great place to glide down a hill.
The kids on my block often would have snowball fights in the alley near my house, with a dozen or more kids participating. You’d grab an aluminum trash can lid to use as a shield and whip snowballs with all your might at your friends. It was better than dodgeball.
We’d make snowmen in our yards, then destroy them. Typically, we’d hit our snow creations with a bat, but every now and then someone would come up with some fireworks to get the job done.
My favorite snow-related activity, however, was playing tackle football in the powdery stuff. While snow slowed the fleet of foot, it had a relatively minor impact on someone as immobile as me. I did great in those games.
I more or less continued with those same kind of snowy activities when my family moved to south St. Louis County in the early 1970s. However, by the time I was 11 or 12, I discovered I could earn what was to me a fortune by going around shoveling snow off driveways in my neighborhood.
I shoveled my family’s driveway first, then wandered the area with my shovel knocking on doors. Sometimes people would notice me shoveling their neighbor’s driveway and recruit me to do theirs.
I believe I asked for $5 to $10 per job, based on the size of the area the homeowner wanted cleared. Those jobs could take anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour to complete, and it was not easy work.
Sometimes the clients were so grateful I had cleared the snow from their driveways and sidewalks I’d get paid over and above my asking price. Every now and then, someone would double my fee and I’d stuff a $20 bill in my pocket. After I got home, I couldn’t wait for the next time Mom would take me to a mall to blow it all.
As you get older, the snow, sleet and ice predictions begin to bring you anxiety, instead of joy. Bad weather normally didn’t stop me from venturing out to meet my friends at movie theaters or bars, but you knew getting to these places would be no picnic.
Now that I’m in my 60s, snow still looks pretty, but I curse it instead of welcome it, knowing that everything in my life I do outside of my house will be more difficult.
For instance, after the ice and snow storm that inspired this column, I needed to use my car. It not only took a long time to pry the vehicle doors open, but it seemed like the process to chisel the ice off the windows would never end, even with the engine running, the heat on full blast and the rear window defroster activated.
After clearing my car, I proceeded to scrape the windows on the car my twin daughters drive. I know they are capable young ladies and could have done it themselves, but I’m Daddy, and as long as I can still do it, I will perform such tasks for them.
In case you’re wondering, my wife’s vehicle was parked under our carport and did not need scraping. I have grown to love that carport.
Beyond clearing snow off cars and driveways, just trying to walk in the recent ice and snow was a chore for me. I’m not the steadiest on my feet anymore, as my wife likes to point out. On several of those snowy mornings, I went out on errands and while making my way from my vehicle into stores, I had to shuffle along even slower than usual, especially once my arms were filled with items.
As the more astute should be able to tell by now, I no longer appreciate winter weather. In fact, when I hear a forecast calling for ice, freezing rain or snow, I now say, “Bah, humbug.”
Keep in mind this is a family newspaper, so those might not be the actual words that come out of my mouth when I hear those wintry weather forecasts.