LIFE HAPPENS: Let it snow, let it snow,let it snow...
By: DEB MANZELLA
SUN COLUMNIST
Since it’s the beginning of February — which is known to many as the longest month of winter — I thought I’d write about snow.
I realize I write about snow all the time, but I think that’s because our snow season is roughly half a year long. So, I figure that out of my 54 years on earth, I’ve been buried in snow for approximately 27 years. No wonder I suffer from the snow heebie-jeebies.
Well, this year, for an extra special snow challenge, I don’t have a snow blower. Without putting too fine a point on the ravages of divorce mediation and ensuing battles for the custody of labor saving machines — the snow blower has a new address and a new step mommy now.
So when lake effect storms blow in like a banshee, filling my driveway with the usual 24 to 48 inches of snow, sleet and black ice… I’ve got a shovel.
This is a little like saying, “I’ve got a sling shot” in the midst of a water buffalo stampede.
But here’s what I’ve noticed since I’ve been dependent on stone age snow removal. I’m a lot more intuitive in interpreting the jet stream and storm fronts swooping across the central states.
I’ve got a sixth sense about when we’re going to get dumped on and I’ve mobilized my own little snow removal task force.
In other words, everyone who lives in my house now has their own snow shovel. Three or four shovels make short work of a 50-foot-driveway even when the snow is up to our waist.
Plus, there’s nothing like shoveling to bring a mom closer to her children. Hey, I’m serious!
Shoveling in a blinding blizzard is like a test of survival. It’s hard physical labor for the common goal of being able to pull our cars into the driveway. We work together and we work quick.
Being a life-long Buffalonian helps. I firmly believe that dealing with Buffalo winters makes a person tough. It’s life or death, us versus snow.
It’s about making it to work without being able to see where you’re going, from November until March. It’s about the opportunity to laugh at sissy Southern states that shut down operations when they get a couple of inches of fluffy white stuff.
And it’s the ability to grab a snow shovel and clear a driveway like it’s all in a day’s work.
No whimpering. No whining. Just git er done.
Do I hate snow? Yes, sir.
Am I going to cry about it? No, ma’am.
I’ve got my shovel and I’m not afraid to use it.
(React to this column by sending an e-mail to: lifehappens101@hotmail.com or by calling Editor Dan Meyer at 649-4040, ext. 255. You can also write a letter to the editor to: The Sun, Hamburg Village Square Plaza, 141 Buffalo St, Hamburg, NY 14075.)
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