WINTER SUCKS!!
As a child I had a very pleasant relationship with winter. That was because I never experienced it. My mother was a tad overprotective and I was never allowed out of the house during anything resembling winter. To attend school, which was visible from my back porch, I was either driven by my Father, a wonderful time I fondly remember, or on those days he was working and not able to drive, I was sent in a taxi. In addition, I was outfitted in two pairs of pants, heavy sweater, scarf, boots and hat. Everything has a silver lining. The extra clothing prevented me from getting hurt in the beatings that occurred because I was wearing all those cloths.
Anyway, by the time I was in third grade, I had learned to get in the cab, strip off all the extra cloths and pay the driver by the time we reached the corner. I’d do a quick recon to be sure no one was looking, stash the extra cloths in the alley between the corner store and the hardware and walk to school. Or on the rare occasions a cab was not called for me, I cut through our back yard, ditched the offending cloths in back of the garage and crossed Baburchack’s yard to reach the school. At night, I simply reversed the course. If I was supposed to call a cab to return home, I walked home, donned the extra cloths and waited on the porch until someone up the street slammed a car door, and then went in the house. Shamefully, I pocketed the cab fare. But I always used it for Christmas presents or donations to charity. (There was the occasional Chocolate binge!)
The extra cloths and cabs continued throughout Junior High, but by then, I had worked out strategies that let me escape most of it. By High School, I had a paper route and was out in the winter weather quite a bit. I remember being cold, but not disgusted with the whole thing.
The four years I spent at Oneonta were so entertaining, I don’t think winter ever dampened them. There were some memorable walks from downtown back to the campus. But I would stop at St. Mary’s, then stop at the Newman Club, then stop at the Phi Delt House and finally make the big push up the hill. One Christmas vacation, we all held up going home so we could spend a couple of nights camping at our mountain top retreat. That experience convinced me Winter Camping was just nuts. But I enjoyed it.
Even our graduate study jaunts to Cortland didn’t bring on fits of hate. Secretly I enjoyed driving in horrible conditions, it was a challenge. Then I started having my children in the car and it was no longer just me in danger. That took most of the fun out of it. And when they started driving themselves—Well if you have kids you know what I mean and if you don’t you will learn.
Anyway, the very first time I truly HATED winter was a morning in February about twenty years ago. It must have been a vicious winter, and once again my car was refusing to run. As I waited for the bus, the wind just beat on me, and I remember looking back toward the house and thinking, “This just sucks. “
Each year after that, I attacked winter. I made sure I was out in it on the coldest days. I refused to be held hostage or alter my plans, but still each year would have a particular day that marked the end of my patience.
Monday was this year’s last straw. I had a cold in the head which already had me down, but I was going to go ride horses anyway. I got there, learned how to saddle and bridle the most pleasant animal you ever met, and climbed into the saddle. Riding was numbingly cold, but went well. After unsaddling, brushing and getting the horse’s jacket on, I had to take him out to a field and “turn him out.” I walked him there, opened the chained gate, gave him a last carrot and then proceeded to take five minutes re-chaining the gate because I could not get my fingers to work. At that precise moment, winter 2008 – 2009 became a total pain in the ass.