For the month of January I only worked 7 full work days. Part of this lack of work (beyond the fact that I am government worker) was due to snow and another part was due a very unfortunate bout with the stomach flu.
First, the snow days. My wife is from Cincinnati and will often say she is from the North. On a side note, I do point out to her that Cinci is below the Mason-Dixon line and therefore technically in the South. Anyway, Georgia has a very difficult time handling snow and she hasn't got used to idea of road being covered in snow and ice for 4 days. My theory on this is two part. 1) Georgia gets so little snow, there is no reason to go through the expense of buying snow plows and spreaders. 2) Atlanta is full of northern transplants that a) don't understand that pulling over for a funeral procession is a sign of respect (I am sure I will have another blog on this subject later) and b) think they can drive on snow and ice. Now they may very well can drive in snow and ice back where they are from, but the roads have more than likely been plowed, salted, sanded, etc. So yes, they could drive on the roads. I could drive on those roads having never lived anywhere than Atlanta.
So when Atlanta gets more than a 1/4 inch of snow, schools are out, bread, beer, and milk disappear from the grocery store and people hunker down, to quote one of best sportscasters in history, Larry Munson. As a child I looked forward to snow days. We usually had 2 or 3 a year. The snow would fall, kids would run out, go sledding, build snowmen, and have snowball fights. The next morning we would go to school with just a few white patches covering the greening grass. As we rode to school we would see dozens of muddy snowmen standing vigil in front yards. My most memorable snowfall was the infamous "Blizzard of 1993."
During the blizzard, Atlanta received 4 to 5 inches snow. It was light and fluffy, some snow drifts were up to six feet deep. My brothers and I had never seen so much snow at our disposal. We had concocted a plan to build a ginormous snowman. We rolled the base, and it was about 6 feet in diameter. We rolled the second ball for the body and quickly realized we couldn't lift it to place it upon the base. So on to plan B. We decided to build a snow tower, more like a snow spire. This was going to be our monument to show we could conquer and wield snow to our will. As the spire grew and grew we noticed our neighbor across the street was watching us build this beacon of snowdom.
My family had a strained relationship with this neighbor. She hated children and three boys across street did little to change her mind. She was prone to calling the police whenever we did something she didn't like. The first real incident was when my brother and I were 6 and she called the police because my brother and one of his friends were hitting crabapples with tennis racquets. She believed they were aiming for her house. Whether they were or not is still up for debate. But there is no 6 year-old on this planet that could hit a crabapple well over 100 yards to hit her house. As the years went on, my brothers and I would often egg her hatred on (sometimes with eggs).
As this neighbor watched, we felt we needed to brighten her day. After all, she was trapped in her house due to snow and could only watch us have fun. We decided to put an arm on our spire waving to the neighbor. Given, our foresight was a little ill-conceived. We added a large stick for an arm at about the 8ft level and then placed a miniature snowman at the end of the arm. Then we continued with our creation. When it reached the 12ft mark, we decided to stop. Mainly because we only had 6ft ladder. We stood back and admired out creation.
A few hours later, my dad had returned from a mission of rescuing stranded drivers in our neighborhood. He looked at us asked "What is that thing in the front yard and why is it flipping off the neighbor?" We looked out the window and laughed. To this day, whenever it snows, my dad warns my brothers and I not build anymore 12ft phalluses flipping people off.
Needless to say, snow days have always been a fond memory of mine. Even when I hear the prospect of snow on the news, I can't help getting excited like a child. I don't think about the hassle of clearing the driveway, or playing chicken with people who believe snow is just white rain and they can drive the same way in it.
This year I was able to share my excitement with my son. Atlanta received 5 1/2 inches of snow. We got close to 6 inches at our house. The problem with this year was that it was covered with 1/4 inch sheet of ice. It wasn't fun snow. Not knowing this, I took Cole outside to play. He fell down 3 times in the first 5 minutes and was pretty much done with it. I took him inside and then decided to walk to a park that was nearby.
The park had quite a few people sledding. The snow was perfect for sleds. And in the south, where hardware stores don't stock snow shovels and sleds, people improvise. As kids, we used cardboard, or put Hefty garbage bags on and just slid. At the park I saw people with cardboard boxes, trashcan lids, pool floats. One person even had a small slide from an old playground set. I slid down on a few abandoned cardboard boxes. Next year I hope we enough snow to where Cole wants to play.
On to sick days. Up until my seventh grade year school I had perfect attendance. I was suspended in seventh grade and ruined the streak (another story for another time). I was rarely sick. When I did get sick as a kid, my mom would take care of me. She would bring me soup, crackers, and juice; take my temperature and give me medication. Now that I am an adult I am lucky enough to have a wonderful wife to do that (while it does have its limits). As most people know, men are complete wimps when comes to being sick. We can be biggest toughest man in the world, but as soon as we get sick, its all over. We are kids again wanting our mother or some other motherly figure to take care of us.
I recently had a bad case of the stomach flu. There is no need to give you details. It was bad, really bad. I was basically out of commission for 3 days. So I reverted back to my childhood. Wanting my wife, who is 7 months pregnant, to take care of me. She did an excellent job in conjunction with taking care of slightly cranky 18 month old as well.
I bring sick days up because I spent the majority of January feeling like a kid. 5 snow days, 3 sick days, and new perspective on my son. As he grows, I need to remember the experiences I had and the lessons I learned. While I will want him the make his own mistakes and learn from them, I will still protect him from making some of same ones I did. I won't stop him and his brother from building a 12ft phallus in the front yard. I just won't give him the idea. I will take care of him when gets sick. I will always let him know how much I and his mother love him. And I will remind him to have fun as a kid because its hard to get that back.
Moral: No matter how bad you think your childhood was, it's always great to be kid.
