I think last week's snow across the region helped accelerate a lot of youngsters' hearts and even more young-at-hearts to include the two-sizes-too-small one in my own chest even though snow is one of my least favorite vegetables.
This time of year, in New England especially, there's an expectation of snow for Christmas that's shared by so many people who don't ski or sled or snowboard but who see it as a celestial seasoning and crowning holiday ornament. I hope they are pretty pleased with themselves right now and in light of the year most of us have been having, I believe they're entitled to put the holiday snowfall in their win column if that's what they want. Small victories are still victories (unless you have to shovel them).
Speaking just for me (and my aching back), I personally might have appreciated a little less of the white stuff, but the first time I walked around Chelsea Parade after it fell and watched a couple of folks and their four-legged children enjoying themselves it put a smile on my face as well, mostly as a reflection of the joy the dogs seemed to feel but also because it reminded me of scenes from some old home movies playing in my head.
I can remember when our kids were kids (Patrick was in either 3rd or 4th grade and Michelle wasn't even old enough to go to school yet) after a big snowfall and a snow day because school was canceled (and is it just me or were the snowfalls heavier back then?) and how we'd bundle up in layers and layers of clothing and then grab the sleds and trudge down Washington Street to Buckingham School.
Once we got there, along with what felt like every other family in Down City, the kids would rocket down the hill alongside the school (thank goodness for that low fence near the sidewalk, and the backstop over by Buckingham Avenue, it kept many a mini-tobogganer from an unplanned and unwelcomed merge with oncoming cars and trucks), shrieking in delight as they hurtled downhill as fast as they could.
Most of us stayed on that hill even as the daylight faded deciding only to head for home when every child we came with was completely soaked through after being covered in so much snow it was a miracle there was any left to still sled on.
Now, snow days are relegated I've read to the history books as part of 'what we once did,' and while I can understand why in an era of remote learning they're not necessary or needed, that doesn't mean they aren't missed, and maybe not just by the school-kids.
I was driving on New London Turnpike the other day heading towards Route 32 and just past The Rink a blanket of snow covered the Norwich Golf Course and families from across East Great Plains covered the snow. It was a great Currier and Ives moment especially in a year where so much of what we've known has been radically changed if not simply disappeared.
The holiday season, however you celebrate it, is a time when magic fills the air and friends fill our lives. I'm told a friend is a present you give to yourself and there's no such things as strangers, only friends we haven't met. If that is true, and this Friday is, after all, Christmas, when miracles can and do happen, resolve today to be the miracle in someone else's' life. And, although it's been said many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you.
-bill kenny
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