1/22/2007
6:30 AM, still lying in bed sound asleep, my usual routine is already disrupted by the snowstorm that fell onto the grass, the cars, the house, and the streets, and furthermore by the ice that formed from the simple neglect of the county of Arlington or the city of Falls Church to lay de-icing grittle on the streets or actively plow away the snow.
Not that I am complaining about that neglect as I lay sound asleep.
This is the kind of snow day I look forward to, the kind I remember I enjoyed growing up in Virginia, the kind I always felt was so tantalizingly lost by the efficiency of the Chicago and Pittsburgh transportation officials and work crews. In Virginia, any bit of snow was justification for at least a morning, or quite possibly an entire day off from the responsibilities of school (oh, the responsibilities of school, I laugh!). In North Carolina, the mere idea of snow would send the entire town in a tizzy, ridding the shelves of milk and bread. One winter in Raleigh long ago, the town extinguished their supply of salt for the roads in fighting the first 2-inch snow of the winter, only to be dealt a cruel hand of fate by the 20-inch snowstorm that came a mere week later that ground the city to a halt for 10 days.
But Chicago and Pittsburgh were different: efficient, committed, ready and willing to wipe away the best efforts of the winter storm, erasing all obstacles keeping workers and students away from their daily responsibilities. My disappointment at first seeing the spotless roads in Chicago the morning after a snowstorm remains a memory even today.
This morning, safe from that same disappointment back in Virginia, I am awake by 8:30, bounding outside to survey the streets. Generally clear of snow and obviously used by other brave souls, but sufficiently icy to put the doubts of risking my car to the ice.
By 9 AM I am logged into my computer and my email, launching into the day’s work, the day’s communications, asking and answering questions. But the call of the snow remains, and the jolt of memory that in my garage is my old round green sled, a purchase made at Wal-Mart nearly a decade ago, planning for a sledding day. Largely unused since then, it continued to travel with me around the US, in the hope of putting it to good use.
Finally ‘ol round green got its chance. The neighborhood kids shot me looks, since obviously I was a bit older than they. Their bewildered looks when I told them I was “late to work” showed that had yet to envision what work really meant. But after a couple of runs down the hill, launching into the small ramp with abandon, seeing that I was not really that far removed from them, they opened up and accepted me as just another person enjoying the snow day, relishing the temporary escape from responsibilities.
Although I was in the office by noon, the recaptured joy from the morning brought an even brighter light to the rest of my day.
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