For the most part, snow and winter and cold here in Columbus resembles Kmart more than anything. Dingy, dark, messy and unclean. Inconsistent. Sure, there's an occasional good buy or deal, like there is an occasional snowfall of four or five inches. But it's rare, and it's still only four or five inches. Winter in Columbus can never make up its mind. Never sure what it wants to be. So we meander through a couple inches of snow here, ice here and then 60+ temperatures there.
For a Bostonian, it's depressing. Gone are the epic snowstorms that dump 12-18 inches in one night. Gone are the true and complete blizzards that trap you in your home. Gone are the purest whites and sharpest colds of a Boston winter morning.
This weekend, the city endured its worst storm ever, which ranks like 15th all-time on my list. On Friday night, in the modicum of over-reaction, weathermen were calling it the Blizzard of '08 (complete with the snazzy graphics). There were seven inches on the ground. Now it snowed another seven over night and then three or four throughout the course of Saturday. Not exactly a blizzard (though according to the National Weather people, it fits the definition of a blizzard -- one that mysteriously doesn't take into account snow-fall rate. It's made of the same intelligence as people who put a stake in a baseball player's average while overlooking entirely OBP, SLG, OPS). Growing up we called this a lot of snow.
Sarcasm aside. It was a formidable storm. It dropped a lot of snow. And it was cold and windy and shoveling was not fun. But being out in it was the greatest of joys. Building a snow fort only to realize I forgot how to build them and then remembering how to build one. Letting Isaac crawl and sit and climb over the walls and around the fort and into the fresh snow. Jumping off the front porch into the powder and cold. Much can be said about the havoc these storms bring. How the cities and businesses shut down out of fear. Perhaps, when these moments are recalled and enjoyed, we can posit that cities and businesses shut down out of joy and fun because it is snowing. Because it has snowed. Perhaps.
For whatever this storm was, in perspective historically for the city and in my own experience, it was a true snowstorm. It was beyond the Kmart I had grown accustomed too and took me back into the familiar street corner stores of my youth (you know, like the one at the beginning of School Ties that was actually shot at the store down the street from my church). One defined not by snowfall totals or wind speeds or levels of emergency, but by snowballs and snow angels and snow forts and snow. Fresh, white and powdery.
And you can't put a price on that.
For a Bostonian, it's depressing. Gone are the epic snowstorms that dump 12-18 inches in one night. Gone are the true and complete blizzards that trap you in your home. Gone are the purest whites and sharpest colds of a Boston winter morning.
This weekend, the city endured its worst storm ever, which ranks like 15th all-time on my list. On Friday night, in the modicum of over-reaction, weathermen were calling it the Blizzard of '08 (complete with the snazzy graphics). There were seven inches on the ground. Now it snowed another seven over night and then three or four throughout the course of Saturday. Not exactly a blizzard (though according to the National Weather people, it fits the definition of a blizzard -- one that mysteriously doesn't take into account snow-fall rate. It's made of the same intelligence as people who put a stake in a baseball player's average while overlooking entirely OBP, SLG, OPS). Growing up we called this a lot of snow.
Sarcasm aside. It was a formidable storm. It dropped a lot of snow. And it was cold and windy and shoveling was not fun. But being out in it was the greatest of joys. Building a snow fort only to realize I forgot how to build them and then remembering how to build one. Letting Isaac crawl and sit and climb over the walls and around the fort and into the fresh snow. Jumping off the front porch into the powder and cold. Much can be said about the havoc these storms bring. How the cities and businesses shut down out of fear. Perhaps, when these moments are recalled and enjoyed, we can posit that cities and businesses shut down out of joy and fun because it is snowing. Because it has snowed. Perhaps.
For whatever this storm was, in perspective historically for the city and in my own experience, it was a true snowstorm. It was beyond the Kmart I had grown accustomed too and took me back into the familiar street corner stores of my youth (you know, like the one at the beginning of School Ties that was actually shot at the store down the street from my church). One defined not by snowfall totals or wind speeds or levels of emergency, but by snowballs and snow angels and snow forts and snow. Fresh, white and powdery.
And you can't put a price on that.
4 comments:
"And you can't put a price on that."
Yes you can. Blame it all on global warming and your lack of reducing the carbon footprint.
Shame! Have you no Shame!
In order to reduce your guilt and help us with the global warming gods. Buy my carbon credit offsets. Help me help you by reducing our gas.
Do you have to pay taxes for additions to your home? Better melt the fort before the assessor comes by!
Funny, when i was in high school, every draft dodging hippie was screaming about the coming second Ice Age. I guess since we didn't freeze over, now they have to scream about global warming ??? I say bring on year round boating in Ohio. I can't WAIT to build my tiki bar. !
let me be the first to drink at your tiki bar...
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