I say that I hate snow, but I am not sure if I am just lying to myself and whoever else happens to be in the vicinity of my pronouncement. I think, and don't tell anyone else, please, I might actually have a secret love for the glistening , white, blankets of snow.
I know that when I was growing up Wallace I sure loved the stuff. Of course, I didn't have to drive in it then and walking to school was not a problem. although I did have to walk two whole blocks to the house of education uphill both ways, OK, that last part was a little far fetched.
With a little imagination, I could pursue hours of pleasure and not even notice that my fingers and hands were numb with cold, and that my boots had little mounds of melting snow in them, turning my feet blue. No, I was too engaged in the moment to notice trivial things like frozen body parts. There were snow forts to be built, snowball wars to be won, king the mountain battle royals to be fought, and sled riding down the steep hills and roads to be done. It wasn't until I went inside that the pain was felt.
Body shaking and trembling hands and face numb and near void of all feeling, and feet, blue in color and oh so very, very, stiff, I would climb into a hot tub or shower and let the warmth bring comfort, relaxation, and some lost feeling to my throbbing extremities.
Later on, wrapped in my robe,sipping a healing cup of hot cocoa, I would smile to myself and say,wow, I sure had fun in the snow.
So, if you were to hear me say that I hate the snow, just nod in agreement, and then smile to yourself and say that you know the truth., and I will do the same.
That is the way it was, Growing Up Wallace, so many years ago.