Oh, To Be A Kid In The Snow

SANDRA SNYDER EDITOR OF TIMES LEADER MOUNTAINTOP
Tuesday, February 01, 2000     Page: 2

Oh, to be a kid in the snowOnce upon a time I believed you could dig a hole to
China. There was just one stipulation though: It had to be snowing, because
if you dug a hole in a mountain of snow and kept going, eventually you would
hit upon China. Yeah, that’s what I believed. Somebody told me that as a
child, and it was good enough for me. (I also believed your organs would stick
together if you swallowed gum, so, hey, what can I say?) Late last week, when
Stephanie Bombay, toting her camera, and I drove around a snowy Mountaintop
looking for children at play, we reminisced about the things we used to do
when the heavens blessed us with piles and piles of free, ultrapliable white
modeling clay. And we wondered whether children still do the things we used
to do in the snow. The signs weren’t overwhelming. On our snow tour, we did
happen upon a few small groups doing the cool stuff, read building tunnels,
but the count was low. “Stephanie,” I said, “Where do you think these kids
are?” “Inside playing Game Boy?” she guessed. Maybe they were. Or maybe
they were online, most likely making the most of a little extra time to spend
instant-messaging with friends and strangers. Nothing wrong with that. I know
I couldn’t live without my home computer, and I have to spend a lot more time
inside than I’d like, but still … Do they know what they’re missing? Once
you become an adult, and snow often becomes more of a nuisance than a
pleasure, you can no longer run outside at the first accumulation to dig
tunnels to China. And you have far less time than you once did to build an
elaborate snowman, with carrots and coal for features and the funkiest hats
and scarves and sweaters for accoutrements. We didn’t see any snowpeople in
Mountaintop, Stephanie and I, and I have to admit I was a little bit
disappointed. Where have all the children gone? Excuse the nostalgia, but I
remember when we used to haul boxes of food coloring out in the snow and make,
well, snow food. Not mud pies but snow pies. Yellow was particularly good for
snow french fries, and all the colors were great for snow Easter eggs. I also
remember when we used to pack as many people as would fit into a car and drive
to Kirby Park, where the sleigh-riding hills were legendary. Then we’d come
home and build really elaborate snow forts. We stayed outside until we
absolutely could stand the cold no more. And then I remember strapping some
sort of boards to my feet and attaching myself to the ropes on a T-bar
clothesline to ride down a homemade backyard ski slope. That wasn’t my
proudest snow moment, nor was it my most intelligent one, and I don’t advocate
trying this at home. It resulted in a sprained knee (that to this day acts up)
and six weeks on crutches. Nonetheless, if I had it do all over again, what a
time I’d have. One thing I never did do was skate on a frozen pond. I think
I might check out Lake Nuangola this month, but I’ll be sure to engage a
little bit more brain this time around. Sandra Snyder is the editor of the
Times Leader-Mountaintop. Reach her at (570) 831-7383 or ssnyder@leader.net.