Blizzard Envy

Snow is fun.
Snow is great.
But still a
Snow Day I await.

I’m spoiled. I grew up in the famous Snow Belt south of Buffalo. Like clockwork every winter the blustery weather blew in off the lake, dumping several feet of snow atop our community. School closed. Dad stayed home. It was a fun family time.

And how I miss it.

While we’ve seen record breaking snowfall, it’s been far too long since we’ve had a real winter emergency. Indeed, I think the last time we had a 3 foot drop I was (ironically) stranded in Buffalo. My wife and three pre-school children, snowbound at home, wondered when the electricity would fail and if there was enough firewood in the garage to stay warm until it came back (relax, it never went away). It took three days to open the Thruway, finally allowing me safe passage back to my family.

So, that one didn’t count.

Nah, as we watch the rest of the nation succumb to a couple inches of snow, our community somehow manages to keep the trains running despite a couple feet of the white stuff. (OK, except for that one day in a two-mile wide swath of Snow Belt). It’s like we’re the older brother watching a younger sibling get parental assistance while, given the same, if not worse, circumstances, we’re expected to fend for ourselves.

Yeah, we’re resilient. Yippee! Where does that get us? Another day older and deeper in snow, ski county don’t you call me ‘cause I can’t inner tube, I owe my soul to the company cube.

All last year, the eastern megalopolis saw storm after storm. With each reeling whiteout, another city of millions found itself canceling events, staying home from work and, in general, experiencing the same frosty bliss I frolicked in during my youth.  Last year it was just plain funny. But it’s happening again this year. And, unlike last year, this year we’re actually getting loads of snow. It’s not funny anymore and I’m close to reaching the point of blizzard envy.

So I remain, eyes fixed through the icy windows. Hoping…

As the flakes faintly flutter from the cozy gray skies, I wish – if only once – a maelstrom of wing whipped white powder would wander our way at, say four or five in the morning. You know what I mean. Too early for most commuters to have heard their wake-up buzzer buzz, too late for the diligent plowers to confidently get the job done on time. Then, as all the Whos down in Whoville arise, a media voice gently advises:

At home you all
please safely stay,
‘cuz we got us
a blest Snow Day!