They just don’t make snowfalls like they used to! I can remember the days of my youth, when winters were winters.
Seventy-degree days were unheard of, unless you lived south of the border. As a child growing up in Levittown, I remember four distinct seasons, each with its own set of marked traits. But by far the most magical was winter.
I remember snowfalls that seemed like they would never stop. To have enough snow on the ground to cover half my height was not only common but welcomed. Now, to be honest, as a kid of short height, I’m probably exaggerating a bit in my memories, but certainly a foot of snow was not uncommon.
Ah yes, snow days in the ’60s and ’70s. Those were the days! After a night of snow, we kids would wake up, take one look out the window and run to the radio, to listen for our three-digit code to be announced as one of the closures: 7-5-2. Those were my magic numbers.
And there was no option for virtual learning. It was a real day off. Once those numbers were announced, my brother and I were out the door (after spending a good half-hour being layered up in snow gear by our mom!) There the options of fun in the snow were endless!
It was as if the neighborhood kids had a meeting, and all agreed to meet out in the street for the morning sledding gathering! With virtually no traffic in our suburban neighborhood, we felt free to use our street as a sledding course.
Kids of all sizes (and that included some of the parents, who reverted back to kids in the midst of the magic white stuff) worked hard to pack that snowy road, to make our course even speedier. Brine? Cinder? Salt? Nope, not on our streets in the ‘burbs!
There was nothing to block our ability to go down that hill on my Flexible Flyer! We were unbeatable. Maybe as a fun reminder of my youth, I still have my trusty sled, stored away in my garage. I’m not sure what I’m saving it for — maybe the next big snow?
Of course, snowy fun was not limited to sledding. We were also quite skilled in snowy architecture. There were snow caves, dug from the high drifts created by the snow removed from the driveway and tossed about in our yard, there were igloos, snow forts and snow sculptures decorating practically every yard in a 10-block radius.
And let’s not forget the classic snowmen, built from the imaginations of kids of all ages, adorned with scarves, hats, clothing and gloves from our closets, much to the annoyance of our parents.
It has been quite awhile since we have had a snowfall that measured up to those of my youth. Who knows, maybe we never will. But the memories of the good old Pennsylvania winters will live in my heart forever.
