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The bare facts There's No Business Like Snow Business -- Thank Goodness!By Rick Horowitz
"Minus 4," says the lady on the radio. "And the wind chill is minus 25." I've already been out this morning to get the paper, to visit the cash machine, and I can tell she's not kidding: It's cold out there! So why is my face (the part of it, at least, that isn't frozen solid) one big grin? No snow. No snow as far as the eye can see. Nothing but gray sidewalks and black roadways and faded green grass. The mercury may have plunged into the rigid digits, but as long as the streets are bare, who cares? This is my kind of winter. And it's been my kind of winter most of the winter. We had a couple of tiny snowstorms around Christmas -- nice for the people who take pictures, not too messy for the rest of us. Then the last of it melted away -- this was weeks ago -- and it's been clear sailing ever since. There's been plenty of snow to the east of us, and even to the south of us. (Something about El Nino, I think. It could be El Taco Grande, for all it matters to me; there's plenty of credit to go around.) But right here in this kindly corner of the Upper Midwest, where winter comes early and stays late, where snow is always a happening thing, nothing's happening. I could tell you how much I miss it, the flake and the crunch and the drift of it, but I'd hate to lie to you. Not at all -- that's how much I miss it. I might feel differently about snow if my livelihood depended on it -- if I owned a ski lodge, for instance, or a pile of rock salt. I don't own a ski lodge. I don't own a pile of rock salt. Or I might feel differently about it if I were a big winter sportsman, just itching for a chance to strap on the old snowshoes and dive into the great outdoors for an hour or two. I'm itching, but I figure it's just the wool socks. That's another thing: I don't have to look at my socks all day; I can actually keep my shoes on when I come in from outside; I don't have to unlace (and unlace, and unlace) my boots to keep from dripping melted yuck all over the kitchen floor. Maybe you actually enjoy clomping around on paper towels, doing your best monster impression while you soak up the slush. I've never much liked it. Besides, Halloween was months ago. Now, I don't want you thinking that just because there's no snow on the ground, I've been going out for a pleasant little winter stroll three or four times a day. Hardly. I go out when I have to go out, and the sooner I can get back indoors, the happier I am. But that's the other thing about snowless winters: If I want to get back home in a hurry, I can! I don't have to drive six miles per hour to keep from skidding across some intersection right into the path of a dump truck. And I don't have to walk...like...this...to...keep...from...falling... and...breaking...all...my...bones. If I have to be out on foot, my feet can move quickly. And if it's really, really cold out, my feet can move even quicklier. I'm trying to be fair about this, and open-minded. I know you're counting on me not to go leaping to conclusions, and that's exactly the way I look at it. Even if I liked leaping, which I don't, leaping to conclusions is one kind of leaping I would never want to do. Which is why, after careful consideration, I've come up with my personalized, prioritized no-snow balance sheet. No-snow downside: Harder to keep track of local bunnies. No-snow upside: Everything else. I think that pretty much sums it up, don't you? It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Posted 1/23/03. Make
your day even better with award-winning commentary from syndicated columnist
Rick Horowitz!
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Rick Horowitz
