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HUMOR
When Snow Days Really Meant Something
The wussification of America.
My boss just told me not to come in or to come in late because the schools are closed.
(A) Maybe he hasn’t noticed since he’s never there, but we don’t run a school. We run a law office.
And (2) it barely snowed. I can see the road. And if I can see the road, it’s go time.
When I was a kid, a snow day really meant something.
Out here in the middle of God’s own guest bedroom that nobody ever uses, we do what needs to be done. And that means going to work and school.
Or we used to, anyway.
I have a distinct (meaning, “traumatic”) memory of being on the bus when it almost went over a cliff into a gravel pit in the middle of winter.
“But Bev,” you say, “that’s a scene from the movie The Sweet Hereafter” (which I love, by the way).
And yes, it is. But it’s also a real memory of mine that I’m not conflating or imagining in any way in order to exaggerate the horror of my Joad-like childhood.
I had to ride on the bus every morning for approximately three days because I was one of the first kids on. It would still be dark out, wolves howling in…
