We had a beautiful snow this weekend. Because of the likelihood of diminished travel, I spent most of the weekend with Mom and Dad. We didn’t get out to play in the snow, but we did take some beautiful pictures and kept each other warm.
In 1975 when I was entering 2nd grade, my family moved from Cocoa Beach, Florida to Duluth, Minnesota. It was a new adventure and a huge transition for me to go from being a beach kid to a snow kid. After three years in Florida, my father, however was ready for a change. My oldest two siblings were already in college in North Carolina so Mom, Dad, John and I moved to Duluth.
Duluth is on the western point of Lake Superior. It is a beautiful spot, but it gets very cold and snowy there in the winter due to the lake effect. Knowing my mother the way I do now, I wonder how she ever adjusted to the cold.
I have lots of snow memories from that time. Mom would help me get bundled up in so many layers: long underwear, a double set of socks (a liner for underneath a pair of wool socks), pants, shirt, sweater, inner scarf, waterproof snowmobile suit, snow boots, outer scarf, a wool hat, and two pair of gloves. I looked just like the little brother in “A Christmas Story.” I walked to school downhill in the mornings– or slid depending on how icy it was – and uphill in the afternoons.
At school, there was a coat closet in the back of the classroom for all the outerwear. I remember being the last one undressed in the mornings and the last one dressed to go home each day. My teachers were so kind to help this Florida baby learn the ropes. To this day the smell of gas heat and wet wool can immediately transport me back there to those cozy little rooms.
In the house next door to mine, I had twin playmates. Susan and Sally had lived on Dunedin Ave. their whole lives, and they were my best friends. They taught me how to build a snow fort, paint in the snow with food coloring, and make an awesome snow man. The drifts around our house were sometimes up to the roofline and we would slide off the top of the roof down to the road.
For a woman who grew up in the south, I often wonder now how Mom endured it. She learned to drive in the snow and would take me to piano lessons at the College of St. Scholastica. We would go to the downtown pool at the YMCA and sit in the sauna afterwards. While I don’t have any distinct memories of her playing in the snow with me, I do know she braved the elements to get me out of the house.
She was always there to warm me up after playing outside. She would make real hot cocoa with scalded milk. We had a wood burning stove in the basement where she would put my wet clothes. I remember well the feeling of thawing out my frozen fingers and toes next to that stove. We would do latch hook and paint by number projects while sitting near the fire. One of the many benefits of having a stay-at-home mother was that she was always there. On days when it was just too cold to get out (a blizzard or sub-0 degrees), she was my playmate and entertainment.
When I think of snow, I must admit I get a bit melancholy. I would love to go back and spend just a few days in that idyllic world. I know it must have been rough on Mom and Dad to make such a change, but I don’t remember them struggling in front of me. Maybe I was sheltered or oblivious or both. Even the ice on the roads didn’t stop us from going where we wanted to go (although I do remember one time after church when we couldn’t get up the hill at the beginning of our road and we had to walk home.)
The snow we had this weekend was beautiful and fun, but to me, snow in the South can’t ever compare to my memories of Minnesota snow.
