SNOW RULES

"Kindness is like snow. It beautifies everything it covers."

--- Kahlil Gibran

Ok, I would not agree that snow beautifies everything, but that's just a personal issue, and this quote is probably meant metaphorically. Snow does enhance places in New Hampshire like ski areas and fallow fields. It looks lovely in Central Park, clinging to spindly tree branches while tiny white lights twinkle through and put a bit of sparkle in the air. The sight of snow on the cupola of Founders Hall on the campus of my alma mater Saint Michael's College in Winooski, VT never fails to warm my heart. It evokes a memory of the best years of my life when everything was new, and my world was a small campus of brick buildings, friends, and adventures.

Having grown older though, and, admittedly, a good bit crankier, snow that shows up in my world now is not viewed by me as anything but a hassle and a hazard. Staying upright on flat, dry pavement is a struggle for me. Throw in snow, ice and wearing clunky boots that I hate and it's a recipe for disaster, complete with public humiliation and an epic windmilling of arms and legs that ends with me stranded in a snow bank. I've never once fallen without at least a dozen witnesses, because what fun would that be?

The snow situation recently in town, however, has brought to the fore another problem. A lack of kindness, compassion, and patience. We got slammed, no doubt. This bomb cyclone was just insane in how fast it roared in, crapped white death all over everything and then zoomed out to sea, without a backward glance. It was overwhelming to some, no doubt. It doesn't matter how much bread and milk you buy; if you can't even shove open the storm door to get out to your driveway, it's going to get ugly fast. Visions of Jack Nicholson and "Here's Johnny!" are never far from my mind in these storms. Eventually, though, we all dig out, and life goes on, as it should. I was not thrilled about forking over close to $1,000 on a snowblower some years back, but it happens to have been one of the best decisions ever, and I'm grateful for it.

Not everyone has one though. Some have teens that shovel, landscapers that plow, or some other way of dealing with the snow. It's been a few days though, and if one goes by the angst and anxiety on social media, you would think that there are no sidewalks cleared anywhere in town. Wee babes are being left to wander busy streets, like some snowy version of Frogger, leaping out of the way of oncoming traffic. It's true; the snow hasn't changed many of the driving habits I routinely rant about. People still park like they own the road and not the car and apparently many are oblivious to those around them, and there have been some close calls. Sidewalks seem to be a significant issue, and it might be time for Brenda's Rules of Snow Etiquette. Much like myself, they're entirely arbitrary and not complete but take a look anyway.

1)    If at all possible, shovel the sidewalk in front of your house. No, you don't own it, and there is no town ordinance that can force you to take care of it. No law exists telling you to find a little kindness in your heart either, but it's a good idea. If you can't do it, because of age, finances, physical infirmities or other issues, that's OK. Maybe ask a neighbor? Perhaps offer a hot meal, a hand knit scarf or a bottle of a chosen adult beverage to someone in trade for it? Your letter carrier will thank you, so will your friends with dogs, the trash collection guys and, especially near schools, you will have the thanks of grateful parents and students who have a safe place to walk. Move away from the thought of "Why should I?" and go towards, "Why wouldn't I?"

2)    If you have a plow service, for your home or business, please ask them not to pile your snow into the driveways and yards of your neighbors. You don't rake your leaves into someone else's yard; you don't go over and pick someone else's veggie garden without permission. Don't make your snow their problem. Also, please realize how hard snow removal crews work, especially our town employees. Thank them when you can and try looking at it from their place behind the wheel.

3)    Check on your neighbors. Yes, even that cranky one that yells, "Get off my lawn." It can be hard for people to ask for help but think about it. Who doesn't need some assistance now and then? If you can, offer your help. Because it's nice, because it benefits everyone and because it's good karma.

Spring will be here eventually, as it always is. Kindness, on the other hand, seems rather in short supply in some areas. We can't change the weather, but I'm betting we can make it seem a little less brutal? To those (and you know who you are) who already do this, thank you. Stay safe and warm and as my friend Chris always says, "Peace and love."

Is The World Really Your Oyster?

"To each his own magic."

--Libba Bray

Of course, we all say something similar. "To each their own" or "Everyone is different" or "Each to his own way." My personal favorite is "You do you, honey" but I have to cop to it being a bit snarky most of the time. These phrases that essentially say, "I'm OK, you're OK, everyone is OK" are somewhat meaningless platitudes, however. They are trendy like "You only live once!" or "You go your way, and I'll go mine," but they add nothing to the discussion.  Sure, we can all do what we like, within reason anyway. The problem becomes when everyone is sitting around just doing their own thing there is no community. Where is the joining together?

World events, political and otherwise, seem to get more chaotic every day. No matter where you look, it's getting a little loony out there. Call me picky, but while I like a good national defense, I'd prefer there not be saber-rattling and button pushing on Twitter. I would rather there be a debate, some discourse, a lively discussion and probably drinks too, now that I think about it.  We don't all have to hold hands and buy the world a Coke, that's useless, and not everyone even likes Coca-Cola. Also, it's flu season, and I'm not touching anyone's hands if I don't know where they've been.  Still. Everyone is off with "their own," and it's not getting us anywhere, seriously, it's just not.

In high school, I read a short story by O. Henry called, "The Third Ingredient." Two people, both down on their luck, have one ingredient a piece for a stew. They still need a third though.  Eventually, they do find someone with the final item, and these three enjoy a lovely meal because, while each had "their own" it didn't amount to anything without the rest of the parts. That's where "to each, his own" isn't always the best way to be. There would have been no hearty meal if all three people hadn't come together to make it happen, each with their own…magic. Read the story; trust me.

It does work, however, when it comes to personal taste. I have a good friend who lives in Vermont, and while the short days of winter and the lack of sunlight can be problematic, she likes nothing better than a good storm that will dump a foot or two of snow at her door. If I never saw snow again, I would be delirious with joy. She says it's the perfect example of the grass always being greener on the other side of the fence. It's true. I'm sitting home now, still in my jammies, watching #Bombogenesis2018 rage on outside my window. While she would describe it as a winter wonderland, for me it's a harbinger of danger and disaster. She doesn't have children, so she often takes mine. I never have a quiet house, and so I frequently jump in my car to go sit on her couch where the only sound is the cat and the fireplace, both roaring, in their own way.

Someone I know, but have never met, was saying recently in a Facebook post (where all my imaginary friendships happen) that she told her son, "The world is your oyster!" To which he replied, "Well yes, unless you don't like seafood. Then it's just where you live." I've never met her son either, but that kid is going places, even if he does have some offbeat quirk that keeps him from liking nature's treasures from the sea, those delectable bits of shrimp and cod and yes, oysters, always the oysters. Perhaps the world is his steak sandwich or his piece of the pie? Smart kid that one, because he's not limiting himself to just one kind of world.

We all look around our lives with our own preferences, our own beliefs and that's as it should be.  Rather than letting that divide us, perhaps it should be what causes us to gather together? I like oysters; this kid doesn't. My friend loves snow, and I'm cursing the weather gods and searching homes for sale in Del Boca Vista, Florida. Why can't we look over at the person next to us at Starbucks, or in the grocery store, and ask them why they like the Yankees instead of the best baseball team on the planet, the Red Sox? Maybe if there's a discussion between a Bills fan and a Patriots fan, there will be something learned. At the very least, the Bills fan and the Yankees fan are both going to hear about some fantastic games; at least if they are sitting next to me. They don't have to switch teams, but since when is it a bad thing to glance over the fence and try to see another point of view?

Bundle Up

"All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism."

―Anonymous

Yes, I know it's January in New England, and it's supposed to be cold. Yes, it's true, people who don't like the cold probably shouldn't live where it's cold. Complaining isn't going to change it, that's also a fact. The weather, much like a stubborn child, refuses to do as I ask. This is where my home is, so suck it up, Buttercup, right?  One small complaint won't hurt though, so here it is: Holy mercury, Batman, it's cold enough to test your frosticles! If they haven't fallen off, that is. For purposes of this article, let's say frosticles are those frozen bits of water hanging from the gutters, OK?

Bundled under a blanket and wearing my hat, scarf and flannel jammies, I was channel surfing and saw some shows about other places where it's even colder, for an even longer part of the year. In some town called Yellowknife, in Canada, there is an entire industry built around driving trucks over frozen lakes to get big bulky pipes and equipment to some diamond mine. It's really amazing to see how these massive loads are managed, over the ice road, sometimes with just hours to spare before it starts to thaw. It's quite a lucrative job for the 45-60 days a year that the ice road is open, but I can say with certainty that there isn't enough money in the whole world for me to ever live or work up there. It's like being on the moon or something, it's otherworldly.

There was also a documentary about science researchers who live at the South Pole, at McMurdo station, in Antarctica. In a whole year, the sun comes up once and goes down once. That's it. That song from Annie, "The sun'll come out, tomorrow?" Don't bet your bottom dollar on that at McMurdo; you will lose. Between the elevation and the thickness of the air, it's hard to breathe, hard to sleep, hard to do anything but eat and run science experiments inside bunker-like facilities. Once February rolls around, don't get any ideas about leaving, you're stuck until the following October or November because jet fuel and hydraulic fluid would freeze immediately, so any rescue mission is out of the question.

So, that settles the question of "It could always be worse." Anything could always be worse though. So how do we get through these brutally cold days? Baking cookies, having comfort foods like macaroni and cheese and meatloaf, and staying bundled up are all good ideas, right? Until April when we emerge from the winter cocoon and realize that all the cookies, casseroles and inertia will make their presence known on that first beautiful day when you pull the bikes out to take a ride. It's then that we realize what winter has truly been. Still, so what? You do a few extra laps, problem solved. It's that or drag your shivering bits to the gym all winter, trying to stay upright in the icy parking lot and cursing all your friends from California and Florida who post beach pictures on Facebook. Me personally, I'm going with the bundle up and bulk up plan, with just enough exercise thrown in to keep me from becoming frozen in place. Nothing is guaranteed in life, what if Spring never comes? Best to gather ye brownies while ye may. Nutrition aside, no one wants a big leafy salad and a piece of steamed fish on a frigid January night.

Bundling up is a challenge for me though. I'm a fashion failure most of the time, winter or summer. Putting the right colors together and finding cute accessories eludes me, so trying to look good and be warm is a bridge too far for me. Thankfully I have a friend who can knit, so I have a warm beanie, a cozy scarf, and fuzzy mittens. Those, along with a big puffy coat and clunky warm boots are my nod to frostbite fashion. It's nice to browse the catalogs and see the bright colors and coordinated winter gear, but it's not me. Chances are I'm going arse over teakettle into a snowbank at least once; it doesn't much matter what my outfit looks like.

These cold days will pass though. We don't live in Antarctica, there are four seasons, and three of them are awesome.  This extreme cold can't last more than a few days, right?  In the meantime, throw on a pot of chili, find something interesting on Netflix and…bake? Sounds like a plan. And just for reference, it's 91 days until Opening Day at Fenway. That's practically right around the corner. Go Sox!