from the archives: snow days!
Re-sharing "Inclement Weather"
Another one from way back - a story about way, way back. ~JRC
Inclement Weather
As a kid, I loved a good storm, but now I'm a homeowner
First published December 4th, 2020
Last night I woke to the sound of howling wind. Here in Southern California, we experience "Santa Anas" - high-pressure systems that cause warm desert air to blow towards the coast. With these conditions, gusts can easily exceed 60 mph. The events can fall trees, down power lines, and cause other property damage. Worse still, the air is extremely dry, dramatically increasing the risk of fire.
All that being what it is, the gusting winds are exciting.
I lay there in bed for a while, listening to the rushing sound. It was something different. It was a change, welcome in many ways, despite the danger.
Oh, to be a kid again - when storms meant nothing but fun.
Growing up in the rural Midwest, I lived for storms. Rain. Wind. Thunder and lightning. All were thrilling. But none more so than snow.
If there were a remote chance of a weekday winter storm, we'd wake early to listen to the radio, hoping for a cancellation. It was a suspenseful few hours as the stations would break their regular coverage to list the closings.
We'd sit with bated breath as they called out the names in alphabetical order. "Anderson, Batavia, Bethel-Tate, Cincinnati Public Schools, Deer Park..." and on down the list. We were in the Felicity-Franklin school district, so we didn't have too long to wait.
Inevitably, we'd miss it or wish we had when the reporter didn't call out our school's name. So we'd groan, and hope, and listen more. Neighboring schools always seemed to close first, with ours waiting until the last minute. Often, Bethel would close to the north of us, as would New Richmond to the west, but Felicity would seem to hold out. Why, we never knew.
It felt like punishment, not getting a day off. As if our school didn't care enough to let us stay home. But those days when we did hear the magic words announced, screams of joy filled our house. "Felicity-Franklin - CLOSED." Hallelujah!
We'd don our winter gear within a flash, ready to embrace the snow.
Our plan was always the same. We'd head for the woods behind our home. And so did our cousins who lived up the road from us. Without so much as a phone call, we knew they'd be there too, ready for wintertime adventures.
It was a race to see who'd make it first to our favorite spot in the valley. There, the most epic of hills loomed. Even in summer months, it went by the name "The Sled Riding Hill."
A steep slope, maybe 100 yards long, the hill terminated in a small creek. Sometimes the water was frozen over. Other times not. Either way, it presented a significant obstacle to our sledding. And it made it all the more fun.
We'd have contests to see who could bail out at the last second. Or better still, we'd build a snow ramp and attempt to clear the creek altogether. One of us would inevitably push it too far and end up wet. Amazingly, we were never severely hurt.
Sledding was exhilarating. But after a few hours, we'd all grow cold, and to home, we'd head. Mom would greet us at the door with towels and dry clothes. She'd have some warm food cooking and hot chocolate on the way.
It was rather Rockwellian, looking back on it. And it was all possible because our parents carried the load so that we could be kids - they did the hard stuff so we could play.
Snow days were easier for our household. We had a stay-at-home mom, and so too did our cousins. Canceled school for us didn't create childcare issues that other families experienced.
Our dads still had to make it to work, though. My pop commuted to the city daily, an hour's drive in good weather. He had to brave the treacherous roads and often worked outside in the cold too. For him, snow days were anything but fun.
It was easy to overlook this as a young kid. And even as a teen, I could look the other way. Dad would be okay, I knew. I hoped.
Parents do the work and worry for kids. It's their job.
Mom and Pop did all the heavy lifting to make us storm-ready. They knew the value of preventive maintenance. For example, we always had enough wood to heat the house. And our roof was solid, the cupboard never bare. Dad ensured our cars were in tip-top shape, had safe tires, and always fueled up. Mom kept the porch and driveway clear.
Wind, rain, ice, or snow - my folks were prepared. Not doomsday-prepper prepared - but close.
I often think about my parents as I tend to the chores of daily life. Planning for tomorrow is the job of today. We have to be ready. But it's time-consuming - and expensive - to do so. And there's a lot of worry that goes along with it all.
That worry can suck the joy out of events like storms if you let it.
I try and always prepare, so I can relax and enjoy weather events when they arise. Knowing the roof won't leak and the car will always go, it's a source of pride. As such, I love rainy days here. And windy ones. And if it snows in the nearby mountains, I itch to go. I’m ready to go.
The kid in me still loves it. And when most of my world is in order, I do enjoy it like a child - with reckless abandon.
But last night, as the wind gusts increased, my house began to creak and moan. I could hear metal clanging outside and what sounded like debris blowing about. My homeowner-adult mind took hold, and I began to worry. Santa Anas can be quite damaging, even without fire. And with an open space full of dry sagebrush nearby, the fear of wildfire crept in too.
I listened intently. But nothing blew down. And no sirens blazed. Things were fine, I surmised.
With nothing left to do, I enjoyed the sound of the racing wind a while longer. And soon, I was fast asleep.
Until next time.
JRC
Your story reminds me of some scenes from
“It’s a Wonderful Life”. Snow days still rock! I especially remember one at Lake Hughes with Turduckin Rabbit. :-)