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Snow fan? He's no fan. Let It Melt, Let It Melt, Let It Melt!By Rick Horowitz
MILWAUKEE -- This is the view from our back window:
The view from our front window is pretty much the same, plus cars. The cars are grinding their way down the block at half their normal speed (and a third of their normal accuracy), but can you blame them? They're up to their axles in snow. We're all up to our axles in snow. Enough already. I've been a good sport about it. You haven't heard a squeak of complaint out of me until now. Not a squeak of complaint, even though the snow has been relentless -- 13 inches here, three inches there, another two, another ten, another... Not a squeak of complaint, even though with days to spare, we've already managed to break the record for Milwaukee's snowiest December ever. I know, I know -- other places have it even worse. Is that supposed to make me feel better? I've been a good sport for one reason and one reason only: the holiday, and one particular song about the holiday. (Or is that two reasons?) If everyone was dreaming of a White Christmas just like the ones they used to know, who was I to get in the way? (Not that a light dusting wouldn't have been sufficient. I never heard Bing sing about a "knee-deep" Christmas, did you?) And if everyone was hungry for treetops glistening and children listening, fine. Let 'em glisten, let 'em listen; I'd keep my mouth shut long enough for everyone to have the Christmas of their fantasies. But it's over. It was famously festive and perfectly picturesque -- a little Currier-and-Ives moment of our very own -- but it's over. December 25th is history. So let's get rid of the stuff, shall we? How about immediately? I want my sidewalk back! There are people who revel in a winter wonderland, who like nothing more than dusting off the old sled or strapping on the cross-country skis for a jaunt through a crystalline landscape with the wind-chill at minus-30-something. I'm not those people. There are other people who are content to while away the winter in their easy chairs, thrilling to the ivory vistas beyond their windowpanes. I'm not those people either. Let's just say I've got polar disorder; endless snow doesn't do it for me. I figure snow is attractive for a couple of days, and then it's simply inconvenient. And heavy snow? Heavily inconvenient. Shovel it and you're looking for a heart attack, don't shovel it and you're looking for a lawsuit. Pay someone to shovel it for you and you don't even have to slip on the front steps to feel a pain in the wallet every time there's another inch or two. I'm tired -- I'm so tired -- of having to change my shoes every time I want to take out the trash, squeezing myself in and out of the high-top boots with the 300 eyelets and the laces that are either soggy as sponges or stiff as cadavers. I don't like the pile of drippy footwear jammed against the back door for months on end. I don't like the salty windshields and the soggy pants cuffs, the ruts and the drifts and the sudden swoops on the slick spots. You can call it all quaint. You can call it scenic. I don't. Currier and Ives give me hives. Posted 12/26/00.
There's no place like "Rick's" for the holidays -- tell your friends!
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Rick Horowitz