This winter season we got a lot of snow here in New Hampshire. In fact, we’ve had the most snow in a season since 1875. On March 28th, we got about eight more inches. Unfortunately, they measure snowfall in Concord and they only got about 2.8 inches. That just doesn’t seem right to me. We get dumped on and most of it doesn’t count. Anyway, right now the record is 122 inches, set in the winter of 1873-74. We are currently at 115.2 inches. That puts us into second place. You may not believe this – I don’t believe it myself – but I’m actually kinda wishing for more snow. I want to break that record. Why, you ask?
Because I want bragging rights.
Wouldn’t you? I can just picture myself, eighty years old and sitting by the fire, telling my grandchildren in a gravelly voice, “I remember the winter of ‘07/’08 when we broke the record for the most snow in a season. It was a nightmare, I’m telling you. Your grandad had a broken wrist, leaving me to sno-blow the driveway, which was a couple hundred yards long, shovel the steps, porch and deck, and try to rake the roof with an implement that was longer than a tree. Then, just when his wrist healed, he went and injured his thumb!” At this point, I’d give a good guffaw and slap my knee. Then I’d grow serious again. “That was the year of the bad back, little ones. Most of us New Hampshirites weren’t able to fully straighten up again until August.” Big sigh here. “I remember one time we had to clean up from a snowstorm…in the pouring rain!” Of course, the grandkids would ask next, “But why didn’t you just let the rain melt the snow, Grandma?” And I’d smugly reply, “Because, smart aleks, the next day was going to be frigid cold, worse than being in Minnesota, if I remember correctly. That rain wouldn’t have been able to melt all the snow in time and we would have ended up with 8 inches of ice on the driveway. Our little ice rink wouldn’t have melted until July.”
Just when the grandkids thought the story was over, there’d be more. I’d lean closer. “You whippersnappers don’t know what it was like. Just leaving the driveway was an adventure. All that built-up snow and ice had created a ramp at the end of the drive, plus the snow banks were so high, you couldn’t see down the road you were trying to turn onto. You just punched the gas and hoped for the best, sailing through the air, wrenching the steering wheel to make the turn, praying there weren’t any cars coming. We were Dukes of Hazarding it that winter.”
I’d probably embellish the story a bit, too. It’s one of the privileges of getting old, and of having lived through harsh times. Perhaps I had double pneumonia that year and the kids had the plague, too. I had to sno-blow uphill, both ways. We lost electricity twenty times and our pipes froze. Our roof nearly caved in from all the snow. We could go sledding off the roof. We almost lost our youngest in a snow bank. Actually, we did lose several of our sleds after one particular snowstorm.
So why do I want more snow? Like I said earlier, I want bragging rights. Plus, it gives me something to aim for. Everyone needs goals in life. I’m hoping you’ll root for us. Do whatever you need to do to send us snow. Prayers. Snow dances. Whatever it takes. It’s only seven inches. But if you could, could you just have it all sent to Concord? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind, not in the least.