Growing up in North Carolina, I was excited every time it snowed. In fact, I have very vivid memories of most of the snow storms we got when I lived in Durham. I remember riding a very flimsy, plastic sled down the Lees’ driveway, right over a very big, bumpy rock around their mailbox that made my area where a human butt should be hurt horribly. I remember Dad helping us all go down our driveway with a wooden sled we could steer with our feet. I remember standing outside WTVD-11 as our church Youth Group was preparing to film the Christmas classic, Rise Up Shepherd*, and a freaky November snow fell on us as we lined up to get inside.
*This is the classic in which I made my television debut**, at the age of 7, with the immortal line, “What about the baby Jesus?” He is the reason for the season, I’m told. Anyone interested in watching this timeless masterpiece, contact me for details on our annual viewing.
** This only aired on the local ABC affiliate, and I believe Nielson recorded it as 0.01 rating.
I even remember sitting around the kitchen table listening to a Walkman with Mom (because the power was out) hoping that school was canceled that day. More often than not, if it snowed, we stayed home. And if it snowed while we were in school – heck, if the forecast called for the possibility of snow – they would cancel the rest of the day and tell our parents to stop partying. The kids were coming home early.
In other words, for 25 years of my life, snow was a big deal. A stop-the-world-I-see-white event.
Today, as I enter what is my fifth winter in the North, it snowed on my way to work. And far from being happy with it, I was irritated. Winters here are cold, dry, and windy; and when it snows, unless it’s a nor’easter, life goes on, your bones freeze from the inside, and the snow hits your face with the cold, wet kiss of a Dementor.* It snows often, and it snows unforgiving. It took only a few years, but New Jersey has turned some of my favorite childhood memories laughingly out-of-date.
*Harry Potter reference!
As friends and family in North Carolina excitedly post pictures of a rare snowstorm, I jealously long for that sense of childlike enthusiasm. You know, rather than the beaten-down, “here we go again, how long is the commute going to be this time,” I hate you CBS 2’s John Elliott! feeling I get now when I see snow in the forecast.
On the plus side, the summers are far less humid. So that will be nice in 7 months.
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