Brrrrr! It is cold, dang-it! For the past few days the midwest has felt like a deep freezer working overtime. On Thursday and Friday the kids didn’t have school and my work was closed as well. We’ve spent the time cleaning (the kids-their bedrooms… finally!) and quilting (me–naturally!) The air is so cold that after just a few minutes your face starts to hurt. I was happy to let Dave shovel the driveway in the -13 degree morning stillness while I snoozed a bit longer. As I lay dozing, listening to the scrape of the shovel, I thought about the cold weather I experienced while growing up in north-central Wisconsin.
We rarely had snow days. The only thing that prevented school from being in session was if the buses couldn’t start. I remember walking the three blocks to my bus stop in frigid, snot-freezing temperatures and jumping up and down trying to keep warm. We would have contests to see if one’s spit would freeze before hitting the ground. We would huddle in groups to protect ourselves from the bitter wind.
The weather never seemed to stop us from doing stuff outside. My favorite winter past time was ice skating. Ever Christmas, until my feet stopped growing, I received a new, bright white pair of ice skates, complete with a bright, red maple leaf on the side. (Perhaps I was always meant to marry a Canadian, hmmm…) We would walk–a little over a mile or so– if no one would take us, to the municipal rink. There my brother would play pick up games of hockey and I would live out my dreams of one day becoming Dorothy Hamill (minus the goofy haircut). We’d skate until our fingers and toes were numb and then head to the warming house to thaw out. No one wanted to stay inside for long, because you were wasting precious time on the ice.
Girls were definitely not welcome on the hockey rink, no matter how tough you tried to be. Our solution was to organize vicious games of “crack the whip” on the main rink. This seemed to curb our need for any aggression as we watched many a child spin toward the snowbanks that surrounded the rink.
If we weren’t skating, we’d go sledding at George St. hill. It was steep, fabulous place to sled. The only drawback was that the end of the hill lead up onto Military Rd. If the snow piles weren’t tall enough, some kids went up and over onto the road. On the far left side of the hill there was always a daredevil run made up of serious “bumps”. I must admit that I never went down that run. It scared me. I guess my desire to keep all of my teeth intact was greater than the potential thrill. Again, we’d go sledding for hours, until we were soaked and freezing.
The last thing we did in winter that I truly miss was snowmobiling. My dad had a few machines as did most of his side of the family. We would get the “snowmobile suits” on and drive through the woods and over the fields. A few people around here have machines, but you have to go up into Michigan to really enjoy them on the trails there.
Ah, the frozen memories. Now I’m a sissy. I’m content to sit behind a sewing machine and create quilts that will keep me and those I love warm.
