Ah, so true. Walking to St. Francis De Chantel Catholic school during a blizzard and maybe one more kid made it from the country driving his old Model T, but we spent the entire day there with sister Dolerite. RR
Having received my cheerfulness cards the other day, I must be careful not to overdose. I was ready to push the buy button for the book but realized I had better wait until the month turns so that my bank account is replenished. Soon come, as I learned to say in Jamaica.
When I was young, winter was really winter and to prepare us to play outdoors, my mother tugged a bulky snowsuit and rubber boots on us with mittens and a hat and scarf that covered half our face. My father gave us and all the neighborhood kids instructions on how to build an architecturally accurate igloo (being an industrial designer qualified him) that, once finished, we delighted in using it as a club house until we couldn’t feel our fingers. Then we went inside and my mother peeled off our soaked snowsuits and mittens that were sopping wet with clumps of frozen snow on them and made us real hot chocolate (not the instant kind with mini marshmallows that are more like pebbles).
Winter was an integral part of our lives growing up, a season when we celebrated Christmas and when we left school for winter recess we all got to say, “See you next year!”
Now I’m turning seventy and all that winter means is blasted Nor’easters, scraping ice off windshields and shoveling snow that the city plows push back up onto your driveway behind your car just as you finish.
I can not afford to fall on the icy sidewalks and break a hip (it’s the beginning of the end) because my dog needs walking.
It’s almost mid-March and already spring is in the air (I saw two robins bobbing along the grass in the park). We have had one mild snowfall which melted the next day. There have been some frigid days, but I’ll take that over snow and ice any day. (As a New Englander, I know not to trust our good fortune, because it might snow on April Fool’s Day just to spite us.)
So good for me, at the expense of melting glaciers that make it very difficult for polar bears to feed and raise their young in an environment that has become precarious for them. I’m not heartless. I care about that too. A lot.
I also know that there will barely be a spring and we will dive right into summer’s sweltering heat that makes you feel like you’re walking in hot soup that drives me indoors to an air conditioned house which is so much worse than fresh air.
I don’t mind aging, and hopefully I’m doing it gracefully. And regrets are useless. But I miss the igloos, and the neighborhood kids, but mostly, I miss my dad.
Good for you. Staying up North and hanging tough. I always figured that I would be skiing in the Adirondacks when I was 75, but my body said no to below zero temperatures when I was 56 and we migrated to Southern Mississippi. I miss the snow, drinking beer while ice fishing (weebles wabble but they don't fall down!!), and all the other things Garrison talks about in his piece (mostly the winter behaviors). I don't regret the move, I just miss the good stuff. Be safe on the ice and take care. Larry P.
Tess, I grew up in Nordeast Minneapolis with a lot of the same memories in the '40s and '50s including "See you next year". I like to walk, especially outdoors but I walk at the Y Oct.-April. That's why I don't own a dog and be required to walk it in any weather. What part of New England? I live in Orono ME.
Thank you, Mr. Keillor, for your beautiful essay this morning. I am one of the 21st century employees working from home, with my dog resting under the desk. I answer phone calls from across the United States, and never know which or any American accent I will hear. Most callers say thank you and appreciate my help in resolving their problem. Currently 35 F in drought-stricken northern Arizona. As Mr. Spock said, "Live long and Prosper"!
Ah yes...behind all that cold beats a warm heart with pulsating passions that need be stirred to warm up. That even the Good Lord couldn't make it in the sweltering sands of the the Holy Lands perhaps gives proof to the efficacy of the cold. Perhaps a new denomination of believers need to come together to form a new church: The Fellowship of Jumper Cables of the Later Day Saints. Can you be its first holder of its keys, Garrison?
Mr. Keillor: just give in and come down to Louisiana. We have the same sorrow and just as good music as Minnesota. Fried chickens take only a few minute, unlike pot roasts.
I was raised in New York (not technically New England) but we 'wintered' in Vermont. Nothing beats the luxury of staying inside and watching a snow storm with a crackling fire. The stillness and official ability to say "No, I'm not doing anything until it stops." Then the following beauty and fun of snow sports. Least of all watching the dog rejoice in it. So what if its cold? Layer up! Know your kit. Put on your animal skins! Wool! Hats! Buckle up! As Mr. Keillor so well illustrated, it is part of my identity. NEW ENGLAND TOUGH. I miss it. I miss it so much.
.. be glad to advise you re Canada eh ! Or Providentiales TCI .. As if there ain’t enuff clues here re the condition my conditions r in - Hope to make next trip Love Potion # 10 & again base ourselves at Club Med Turkoise & sally forth unto the blessed blue waters a lanky feral critter like moi actually ‘floats in’ rather than freshwater size 13 leading the immediate sinking plungeroni
ps - am a student of the snows & ices .. as all who ride boards, skis, & crosscountry sticks ! 🦎🏴☠️🇨🇦
Growing up in Chicago and sharing many of your childhood winter memories, I haven't laughed this hard in a long time and so early in the day! Keep up in this great vein. Dabbing my eyes from laughing...
Fargo has sometimes been referred to as Omaha with snow. If this continues, Fargo will just be Omaha.
Ah, so true. Walking to St. Francis De Chantel Catholic school during a blizzard and maybe one more kid made it from the country driving his old Model T, but we spent the entire day there with sister Dolerite. RR
Having received my cheerfulness cards the other day, I must be careful not to overdose. I was ready to push the buy button for the book but realized I had better wait until the month turns so that my bank account is replenished. Soon come, as I learned to say in Jamaica.
I enjoyed this post. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for these wonderful pictures of the best season of the year. My Finnish blood is wide awake and ready to shovel.
When I was young, winter was really winter and to prepare us to play outdoors, my mother tugged a bulky snowsuit and rubber boots on us with mittens and a hat and scarf that covered half our face. My father gave us and all the neighborhood kids instructions on how to build an architecturally accurate igloo (being an industrial designer qualified him) that, once finished, we delighted in using it as a club house until we couldn’t feel our fingers. Then we went inside and my mother peeled off our soaked snowsuits and mittens that were sopping wet with clumps of frozen snow on them and made us real hot chocolate (not the instant kind with mini marshmallows that are more like pebbles).
Winter was an integral part of our lives growing up, a season when we celebrated Christmas and when we left school for winter recess we all got to say, “See you next year!”
Now I’m turning seventy and all that winter means is blasted Nor’easters, scraping ice off windshields and shoveling snow that the city plows push back up onto your driveway behind your car just as you finish.
I can not afford to fall on the icy sidewalks and break a hip (it’s the beginning of the end) because my dog needs walking.
It’s almost mid-March and already spring is in the air (I saw two robins bobbing along the grass in the park). We have had one mild snowfall which melted the next day. There have been some frigid days, but I’ll take that over snow and ice any day. (As a New Englander, I know not to trust our good fortune, because it might snow on April Fool’s Day just to spite us.)
So good for me, at the expense of melting glaciers that make it very difficult for polar bears to feed and raise their young in an environment that has become precarious for them. I’m not heartless. I care about that too. A lot.
I also know that there will barely be a spring and we will dive right into summer’s sweltering heat that makes you feel like you’re walking in hot soup that drives me indoors to an air conditioned house which is so much worse than fresh air.
I don’t mind aging, and hopefully I’m doing it gracefully. And regrets are useless. But I miss the igloos, and the neighborhood kids, but mostly, I miss my dad.
Hope spring(s) eternal... as do loved ones and their shared activities with us.
Tess,
Good for you. Staying up North and hanging tough. I always figured that I would be skiing in the Adirondacks when I was 75, but my body said no to below zero temperatures when I was 56 and we migrated to Southern Mississippi. I miss the snow, drinking beer while ice fishing (weebles wabble but they don't fall down!!), and all the other things Garrison talks about in his piece (mostly the winter behaviors). I don't regret the move, I just miss the good stuff. Be safe on the ice and take care. Larry P.
Don't forget the Wonder Bread wrappers that covered your feet before you put your boots on!
Tess, I grew up in Nordeast Minneapolis with a lot of the same memories in the '40s and '50s including "See you next year". I like to walk, especially outdoors but I walk at the Y Oct.-April. That's why I don't own a dog and be required to walk it in any weather. What part of New England? I live in Orono ME.
Winter was indeed weird this year - the ticks are out already, too!
Thank you, Mr. Keillor, for your beautiful essay this morning. I am one of the 21st century employees working from home, with my dog resting under the desk. I answer phone calls from across the United States, and never know which or any American accent I will hear. Most callers say thank you and appreciate my help in resolving their problem. Currently 35 F in drought-stricken northern Arizona. As Mr. Spock said, "Live long and Prosper"!
Ah yes...behind all that cold beats a warm heart with pulsating passions that need be stirred to warm up. That even the Good Lord couldn't make it in the sweltering sands of the the Holy Lands perhaps gives proof to the efficacy of the cold. Perhaps a new denomination of believers need to come together to form a new church: The Fellowship of Jumper Cables of the Later Day Saints. Can you be its first holder of its keys, Garrison?
Mr. Keillor: just give in and come down to Louisiana. We have the same sorrow and just as good music as Minnesota. Fried chickens take only a few minute, unlike pot roasts.
I was raised in New York (not technically New England) but we 'wintered' in Vermont. Nothing beats the luxury of staying inside and watching a snow storm with a crackling fire. The stillness and official ability to say "No, I'm not doing anything until it stops." Then the following beauty and fun of snow sports. Least of all watching the dog rejoice in it. So what if its cold? Layer up! Know your kit. Put on your animal skins! Wool! Hats! Buckle up! As Mr. Keillor so well illustrated, it is part of my identity. NEW ENGLAND TOUGH. I miss it. I miss it so much.
Pot roast, you are great,
In my book, top rate,
Every Sunday, it was you,
And on Monday too.
Ah, the leftovers. Enough potatoes were boiled so the leftovers were cut up finer and fried into American fries with the rest of the leftover dinner.
Rare for a writer, success only made Mr. Keillor better.
.. be glad to advise you re Canada eh ! Or Providentiales TCI .. As if there ain’t enuff clues here re the condition my conditions r in - Hope to make next trip Love Potion # 10 & again base ourselves at Club Med Turkoise & sally forth unto the blessed blue waters a lanky feral critter like moi actually ‘floats in’ rather than freshwater size 13 leading the immediate sinking plungeroni
ps - am a student of the snows & ices .. as all who ride boards, skis, & crosscountry sticks ! 🦎🏴☠️🇨🇦
Growing up in Chicago and sharing many of your childhood winter memories, I haven't laughed this hard in a long time and so early in the day! Keep up in this great vein. Dabbing my eyes from laughing...
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Winter White is not just a paint color! Roger Krenkler L.A.