The challenge word on another illustration blog this week is "winter wonderland".
I hate snow.
No wait, let me reconsider.
I REALLY hate snow.
As far as I can see, snow serves no purpose. It isn't good for crops. It kills crops. It is dangerous for driving. Earlier this year, a snowstorm closed a large section of the Pennsylvania Turnpike and left hundreds of drivers stranded. Several years ago, my normal 50-minute commute home from work was increased to a tedious ten hours due to snow.
Snow causes inconvenience for workers and businesses. Shoppers, about to venture to the mall, are disouraged by TV weathermen. Instead, those same shoppers flock to the supermarket to stock up on milk, bread and eggs - fearing a lengthy snowstorm will trap them indoors for months without French toast.
I have no pleasant memories of snow. None. When I was a kid, I remember my father standing at the open front door, with a cigarette in one hand and a scowl on his face, watching the snow fall and muttering "Sh**! Sh**! Sh**!" under his breath. Then, he would watch the evening weather forecast and curse even more as the weatherman predicted (as my father would put it) "plenty inches".
I remember my one and only attempt at sledding. I banged the front of my sled against a large ice chunk buried in the snow, which in turn, banged into my mouth, which in turn, blew up like an innertube.
Years later, I remember having several co-workers who had grown up in Florida. During the night, six inches of snow had fallen. It made my drive to work slow and horrendous. When I finally arrived, my southern co-workers were out in the parking lot taking pictures and giggling. Adults! Giggling like four-year-olds!
I have also spent many a weekend day shovelling snow from my sidewalk. I don't like to shovel anything. Ever.
In addition, I have less than fond memories of sitting in the passenger seat, as my wife navigated the car through a blinding snowstorm on an eight-hour, white-knuckle trek across Pennsylvania on a return trip from Cleveland.
I hear a lot of people say, as the snow is falling, "Oh, look at the snow. It's so pretty. It looks so nice up in the trees." And then they are silent several days later, when the snowplows and car exhaust and dirty boots have turned the "crisp blanket of white" into a gray-black-brown, drippy, chunky sludge, piled into eight-foot high mountains in shopping center parking lots.
If Irving Berlin hadn't have picked up a pen in 1940, no one would be dreaming of a white Christmas with every Christmas card they write.
I hate snow.
No wait, let me reconsider.
I REALLY hate snow.
As far as I can see, snow serves no purpose. It isn't good for crops. It kills crops. It is dangerous for driving. Earlier this year, a snowstorm closed a large section of the Pennsylvania Turnpike and left hundreds of drivers stranded. Several years ago, my normal 50-minute commute home from work was increased to a tedious ten hours due to snow.
Snow causes inconvenience for workers and businesses. Shoppers, about to venture to the mall, are disouraged by TV weathermen. Instead, those same shoppers flock to the supermarket to stock up on milk, bread and eggs - fearing a lengthy snowstorm will trap them indoors for months without French toast.
I have no pleasant memories of snow. None. When I was a kid, I remember my father standing at the open front door, with a cigarette in one hand and a scowl on his face, watching the snow fall and muttering "Sh**! Sh**! Sh**!" under his breath. Then, he would watch the evening weather forecast and curse even more as the weatherman predicted (as my father would put it) "plenty inches".
I remember my one and only attempt at sledding. I banged the front of my sled against a large ice chunk buried in the snow, which in turn, banged into my mouth, which in turn, blew up like an innertube.
Years later, I remember having several co-workers who had grown up in Florida. During the night, six inches of snow had fallen. It made my drive to work slow and horrendous. When I finally arrived, my southern co-workers were out in the parking lot taking pictures and giggling. Adults! Giggling like four-year-olds!
I have also spent many a weekend day shovelling snow from my sidewalk. I don't like to shovel anything. Ever.
In addition, I have less than fond memories of sitting in the passenger seat, as my wife navigated the car through a blinding snowstorm on an eight-hour, white-knuckle trek across Pennsylvania on a return trip from Cleveland.
I hear a lot of people say, as the snow is falling, "Oh, look at the snow. It's so pretty. It looks so nice up in the trees." And then they are silent several days later, when the snowplows and car exhaust and dirty boots have turned the "crisp blanket of white" into a gray-black-brown, drippy, chunky sludge, piled into eight-foot high mountains in shopping center parking lots.
If Irving Berlin hadn't have picked up a pen in 1940, no one would be dreaming of a white Christmas with every Christmas card they write.
5 comments:
The majority of my life I spent growing up in central Texas. If it ever snowed at all in the twenty years or so that I lived there, it was enough to build a 2 foot tall snowman which melted by noon. Texas was ice. The winter skies would remind us that it was indeed winter by sending down freezing rain that would cause every driver in the region to forget how to drive. Snow was rare. In fact, I remember a field trip when I was in junior high school where we had gone to an exotic ranch to see animals we'd only read about. When we arrived we found a few inches of snow on the ground and the kids went wild with snow ball fights and fits of giggles. They forgot all about the amazing animals watching weary eyed on the other side of the fences.
Snow has it's good and it's ugly. To a child it means no school, sledding, building snow families and snow angels, hot chocolate, and days filled with excitement. To adults it's the drudge of driving through it, walking, slipping, sometimes falling in it. The mush that builds up after the drive, the longer commutes, and danger of everyone else suddenly forgetting how to drive.
Winter Wonderland, indeed. It must have been a child's dream. Had it not been for the grumblings of our parents and other adults around us, memories might have been fonder.
I hope you find your Winter Wonderland some day, and enjoy the innocence of childhood as it was meant to be.
Thank you for your comment. I am always happy when one of my drawing evokes a response like yours. That means that someone actually looked at my drawing for more than 2 seconds and took the time to read what I had to say, whether or not in agreement. I don't wish to cause anger or controversy (well, maybe a little), but I also don't want my drawings to go unnoticed. For that, I thank you again.
I want to clarify what I wrote. I do have fond memories of my childhood. And I believe that my 20-year-old son has fond memories of his childhood. However, none of those memories involve snow. Perhaps one day I will find my "winter wonderland". But, I'm not so sure I'll find it in the winter.
The drawing is cool but I liked the diatribe even more. The way you write about snow makes me want to hate snow more; I actually like snow because I have never really lived in it. I have fond memeories of snowboarding in Utah and going to the Southern Californian mountains to sled and enjoy apple cider. Even now I look forward to snow because it snows once or twice, if we are lucky, each winter in North Georgia. But you make me want to loath snow.
I have one suggestion and I am not kidding: If you hate the snow so much move somewhere else. I grew up in sunny California which used to be a cool multi-cultural, hippie, odd-person treasuretrove. It became a sprawling, neverending suberbia with traffic as far as the eye can see and homes that an $75,000 year income could nil' afford and filled with consuming yuppies who could hear there neighbor fart from there bedroom, due to house proximity, but would never dare talk to that same neighbor. I packed up my bags for Georgia of all places and have not looked back. Go figure.
the drawing is very funny, I like the face of Santa!
Funny illo. I know what you mean about snow but in Oklahoma snow is a great thing, even if it doesnt last long, that means no matter what nasty mosquitos and bugs go underground or die. So wooo!!!
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