I think it was second grade. I remember rolling a snowman base so large, it came up to my waist and my arms couldn’t reach the diameter. That’s saying something because I was already 5’7” by then. My friend Michael and I had to get his dad to help us deadlift the midsection and head onto the base.
Building snowmen, making snow angels, cutting out paper snowflakes were my favorite things to do in the winter. We even built a fortress of snow bricks one year.
I’d shovel the sidewalks and driveway in layers, take a break, get some hot chocolate, try again to reach the cement before the sun set.
After trying to deliver newspapers on my bike, being unable to brake, then careening into the mailboxes in a sad bear hug, my mom would drive me to complete the route. But sometimes the snow would be so deep, I’d wonder how the papers made it to my house but I couldn’t make it to the customers. I’d layer up – 2 sets of socks, leggings under jeans under snow pants, tank under a long-sleeved tee under a sweater under my coat, thin gloves under warm gloves, scarf, hat, boots. I’d wander out in the waist-deep banks the plows hadn’t cleared yet. Stopping at friend of the family’s home to warm up before finishing the route and heading home.
It’s milder now in my hometown just SW or Lake Erie. I’ve only glimpsed similar winters in upstate NY where storms have had a chance to recharge over the lakes. I’m about 3 hours south of Lake Erie now and all we ever get is a dusting.
I wish my kids could wake up to that kind of wonderland as often as I did.
andrea lee bishop 