Winter Gripes? Not A Snowball’s Chance, Friend
I moved to Idaho in 1978 expecting road-closing, tree-toppling, bone-numbing winters. The more snow the better. I wanted howling winds and drifts like frozen ocean whitecaps. And long, pointy killer icicles.
So, yes, I’m disappointed this week.
I crave the magical winter of C.S. Lewis’ imagination for good reason.
Except for one year, I grew up in California’s perpetual sunshine. I felt courageous walking to school in a frigid 50 degrees.
I was 9 when we moved to Ohio. That winter, my mother and I sat hypnotized on my bed by the snow flying under the streetlight out my window.
She told me how cold it was in China where she’d spent her childhood, and how desperately she’d wanted it to snow, but it wouldn’t. I understood; snow was precious stuff.
Santa gave me a wooden sled with sleek red runners that year. It betrayed me once by stopping mid-hill while I continued on my belly to the bottom. I cried as I dug out the snow that had packed inside my jacket. But I marched up the hill for another ride.
I missed the snow after we moved back to California. A day in the mountains wasn’t enough. Right after college, I moved with my husband to Lewiston.
The first snow fell three weeks after our arrival as I gave birth to my daughter. I reached nirvana that night. A year later, we moved to snowier Coeur d’Alene.
My enchantment with snow has never worn off. Not after power outages, a collapsed garden shed and hours of back-breaking shoveling. Not after a head-on collision on an icy road, several spin-offs and plenty of stuck cars.
I see the whitewashed landscape and my shoveling fatigue fades. There are hills to sled, trails to ski, forts to build and untouched expanses to roll in.
People who gripe after each snowfall puzzle me. I expected winter in Idaho and am fairly satisfied. What did they expect - Hawaii?
Clean up your act
Remember Sue Swanson, the woman who organizes messy spaces anywhere? She couldn’t pass up reminding everyone that Monday is national Clean Up Your Desk Day.
This isn’t a greeting card holiday. Instead, find a trash can and a box for recyclables and start sorting. File what’s left or put it in a to-do folder by priority. Organize, organize, organize. And have a good day.
She’s not lost
Coeur d’Alene’s Irene Iverson lived on Lost Avenue so long that kids called the sled spot Irene’s hill. She lived at the bottom of the hill for 13 years then moved to the top for 24.
“My place was open to all the little kids to fix their sleds, to use the bathroom or call their mommies,” she says. “I even kept extra flexible flyers around.”
She moved four years ago, but she didn’t abandon sledding. Now she lives where she can watch kids sliding down hills at the Coeur d’Alene Public Golf Club.
Reconnected
Anne MacDonald was oblivious as Coeur d’Alene’s Yvonne MacDonald tried to connect her with her long-lost pen pal, Lorraine. Anne and Lorraine, who lived in Australia, had exchanged letters 30 years ago while Anne attended high school at Immaculate Heart of Mary. Then they lost touch.
Lorraine mistakenly reached Yvonne in her phone search for Anne last fall. Yvonne shared part of that story here in October. Lorraine was coming to the United States and wanted to meet her pen pal. Yvonne didn’t know Anne, but was determined to bring the friends together.
Yvonne found Anne and located the company with which Lorraine was traveling. With that information, Anne found her friend and arranged to meet her in Seattle last Halloween.
What great reunions have you had? Bring tears to the eyes of Cynthia Taggart, “Close to Home,” 608 Northwest Blvd., Suite 200, Coeur d’Alene, ID 83814; fax to 765-7149; call 765-7128; or e-mail to cynthiat@spokesman.com.
, DataTimes