Snowmeggedon. Snowpocalypse. Winter Storm Van Helsing. Whatever you call it, snow has been falling across the South this year in quantities not seen in my neck of the woods in a decade.
We had two rounds of it with winter storms striking Atlanta Jan. 10 and Jan. 21 bringing with it that wonderful mix of beauty and mayhem.
I’ve been contemplating what this means in the larger context of aging and have concluded that the purchase of three plastic sleds in 2014 was not a good idea. They have never been used.
My oldest has flown the nest. My middle is half gone with college and summer jobs taking him away. My youngest has physically outgrown and could barely fit his big toe in one of those sleds, much less his 6-foot-five-inch frame.
The truth is snow is fun when your kids are young enough to play in it. When you are in the awkward years between them making snow angels and snowpersons (isn’t that what we’re calling them now?) and having grandkids eating snow right off the trash can lid, it’s really just a big nuisance.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s a beautiful nuisance. Like dating a supermodel. But if you are the adult person who has to fight the angry mobs in Kroger to get your loaf bread and gallon of milk or the poor guy who has been deemed “essential personnel” and must navigate roads Southerners have not adequately prepared with gravel and salt and however the Yankees season their streets for winter, it’s all just a great big mess.
Making matters worse, there is no longer a thing known as a “snow day.” Days off of work and school for weather are yet another of the victims of COVID-19. During the pandemic lockdown, those responsible for responsibilityness made up this idea called the “Digital Work/Learning Day.” This means that if you have the internet at your dwelling, you can do work.
I felt this most acutely at my day job when we recently announced a “hybrid work and instruction format” in which “Classes will not be cancelled… but will move to remote instruction (online meeting or asynchronous assignments).”
Look, I’m a writer at heart. I want to write words in ways that bring people joy. Had I simply sent my campus the message, “Dear y’all, have a snow day!” that would have spread much joy and celebration. Instead, I sent a message about “hybrid work and instruction” and “asynchronous assignments.” That writing brought joy to no one.
For giggles, I tortured my staff in my Teams messages all day on the 10th by refusing to refer to it as a “snow day” and continuously checking to make sure everyone was working during their “hybrid work and instruction format” day. I know I am beloved.
The one hope you have is a power/internet outage. That will buy you some time. But even that isn’t a fail safe. I was in the middle of Teams meeting when my power went out during the Jan. 10 snowfall. I was able to switch over to my phone and use the Teams app and just keep yapping at my staff, all of whom were secretly rejoicing when my power went out hoping it would all just end and they could just go build their snowpersons in peace. But, alas, we were able to finish the meeting, and I said all the important things that couldn’t wait until Monday.
See how terrible this all is?
The joy I did experience was second hand. The socials were filled with friends and family members with kids out in their yards scraping together a half-inch snowfall into snowpersons mottled with sticks and leaves and pine bark. It was fun, too, when they posted those inevitable photos of 16 layers of wet clothes stripped off in the entryway.
The one way we can enjoy the snow in any amount is watching our pets contend with it. I particularly loved the videos contrasting the dogs who love snow with the ones who hate it. For the record, our Winston is not a big fan of the snow. I think it’s a shame because if he were a great hunter instead of a cuddly miniature poodle, he would be in total stealth mode in the snow. All he has to do is stand still and he becomes completely camouflaged.
I don’t have any predictions on how many more of these “snow events” we’re going to get in Atlanta this year. There’s rumblings that we could get another one. I do know they get increasingly less fun, with or without kids.
Here’s hoping you enjoy your kids/grandkids wonder and discovery of this new fangled precipitation and that you can stay cozy and warm with your hot cocoa watching from inside your home. And whatever you do, if you are of a certain age, do not attempt to join the frivolity. You could break a hip.
New South Essays 