I am at my office. It is 8:05 in the AM hours of Wednesday. Judging by the lack of cars on the road I am either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Regardless, I appear to be the only survivor, well, me and the plow guys, of this apocalyptic storm that wouldn’t be nearly so confident if not for the wind. I don’t know the snow totals here, but I would guess it’s around 10″. Maybe a bit more. Hard to tell with the blowing. Since this will undoubtedly be a light traffic day on the blog, I must keep some arrows in my quiver. So today, we must revisit the phenomenon that is a snow day. Drive safely. Or don’t drive at all. Certainly don’t drive to Fish Creek (you see Fish Creek? You see what I can do to you?)
There are emotional signals that occur randomly in my life that remind me that I am still young. There are also signals, and vertebrae, that remind me that I am not as young as my mind often pretends. When a woman called from Faith Christian School last night around 10 pm to tell me that school was canceled for today, I felt a sense of relief. I looked out at the reflective blanket of snow like a school kid who saw promise in the school-less day to follow. I woke up this morning, and felt lazy. My kids rolled out of bed, and immediately wanted to make snowmen in the yard. My wife made the sort of breakfast that would normally be reserved for Sunday morning. It was a fine morning. A lazy, snow filled morning. Until I realized that I still have to work on snow days, and the short 6 mile drive to my office might be a little more harrowing than usual.
And so it is, another Winter season at Lake Geneva, Old Man Winter cutting the snowy ribbon with wind and ice. While I generally loathe winter, and the length of it, I’m writing this morning with the optimism that can only be found after the first big snow of a still young winter. I think Old Man Winter isn’t angry, or cruel, I just think he’s misunderstood. I don’t think he means to beat us into submission and steal the next three, maybe four months of our lives, I just think the snow and cold and wind that we generally despise is just the way he is. He’s not specifically trying to make our lives miserable, it’s just an unintended consequence of his bluster. Old Man Winter is like a father who spanks his child, and delivers the classic “this hurts me more than it hurts you” line. The line might not be entire true, but there is a thread of truth behind that heavily veiled phrase. I don’t think winter is pleasant, but I do think it’s a necessary tool that sharpens and hones those of us who are brave enough to endure it.
Southerners think we’re nuts for living where we do. There’s a smugness to their warm weather attitudes, and I believe they honestly think they’ve achieved some sort of higher level of existence because they’ve decided to live in a climate where vegetation grows all year long. They think they’re more productive and efficient, largely because they don’t lose time to snow storms and they always have a pair of sandals by the front door ready for a warm stroll, even in the middle of January. They think they’re so smart, but I think the lack of climatic adversity in their lives actually makes them dull and lazy, and severely lacking the creativity and resourcefulness that we northerners so effortlessly possess. The phrase snow day to me immediately brings me joy, and I can easily remember walking up and down the streets of Cedar Point Park with a shovel over my shoulder, trying my best to summon the courage to knock on doors with an offer to shovel snow in exchange for very small amounts of money. Ask a southern kid about a snow day, and their blank, sweaty stares will make you shake your head in sympathy for their sheltered, warm weather upbringing.
It’s winter that forces us to compromise, and winter that makes us appreciate 80 degree Lake Geneva summers so much more than any southerner ever could. Winter gives us time to think, and time to rest. In the winter, I can reasonably arrive home at 4:30, build a crackling fire, turn on some early edition evening news, and lie on my couch. I can do this for a couple hours if so desired, and I can do it just about any day of the week that my schedule allows from December through March. I can read in the winter in a way that I find unachievable in the summer. I can brood in the winter like no body’s business, and I can work on developing my business in January in a manner that would be completely unrealistic in July. In the summer, I feel a constant push that forces me to either be working, or be busy enjoying Lake Geneva. If I’m not showing houses or working in my office, I want to be boating, or swimming, or playing. I want nothing to do with sitting on a couch. I have no desire to burn a fire in the summer, unless it’s outside at night and I’m surrounded by stars. In the summer, there’s just too much to do to allot much time for contemplation.
When Friedrich Nietzsche famously said “what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger”, he certainly said that during the middle of winter. Whether he should have replaced “stronger” with “bitter” in that phrase is something I’m debating, but that’s not important today. Today, let’s enjoy the snow. Let’s traipse through it like warriors, keenly aware that our pain is merely momentary. Let’s remember that it’s days like today that make days that lie ahead so much sweeter. Above all, let’s cut Old Man Winter some slack, because like the old man with the shovel in Home Alone, he’s probably just misunderstood.