Tis the Season to be Jolly....
I can’t believe it’s December. Where did the time go? It should be September with the air conditioner on. Yet, I’m wearing double thermal underwear, wool socks, a turtleneck, and an Icelandic sweater. Perfect for Iceland, but coastal North Carolina? And snow? I cringe watching the weather channel for the Northeast. I’d never survive.
There might be frost or a few snowflakes in the morning, but not much else. We wish for snow in February, and even then, one-fourth of an inch is typical, which causes schools and most businesses to close. But we don’t have the equipment to clear the roads, and I would rather become a hermit than drive in it.
One might say I’m a chicken.
One would be right.
The last time I saw snow in coastal North Carolina at Christmas was in 1989. Twenty-four inches piled up, and with the wind, over three feet of snow drifts accumulated around my front doorstep. It was beautiful but highly unusual.
I was a science teacher at Brewster Middle School in Camp Lejeune, and my spouse, Scott, a US Marine Captain, was stationed in Panama as a Detachment Commander. His duty was securing the Americas Bridge during Operation Just Cause.
Scott left me with Casey, our miniature Schnauzer—some guard dog. How could you take him seriously prancing with a yellow round squeak toy in the side of his mouth or by pulverizing a stuffed animal that looked like him? Fortunately, he was amusing, and he kept me company.
During that snowstorm, Casey went out the front door; he missed the steps and fell into the void between the steps and the shrubbery. It was like watching him at the bottom of a white pond, not knowing how to swim. Once he got his bearings, he burrowed into the snow, making a tunnel to dig himself out. When the mole surfaced, he bounced like a sheep, bounding across the lawn and chasing imaginary prey. I had to laugh.
Later that day, I let Casey out the back door for… you know. Several minutes later, he scratched on the storm door to come back inside. The snow dislodged from the roof and fell on him in a heap. I laughed even harder. With all his frolicking, he morphed into a Schnauzer version of the abominable snow pup. His snowball-laden face and fur had to be defrosted in the kitchen sink. Fortunately, I caught both events on video and considered submitting them to a television show, but I forgot where I put the VHS tape. I suspect Casey either ate it or buried it.
On Christmas Eve, my seventy-year-old mother was determined to finish her last-minute shopping at the mall. I had an all-wheel Jeep and made the sacrifice of carting her there. We might get a quarter inch of snow in the flatlands of coastal North Carolina in February. And even then, it’s debilitating. We don’t have heavy-duty equipment to keep the roads clear, so my brother hooked up a plow to the front end of a tractor and cleared about ten miles of road so that people could get to the grocery store or the hospital. I chose to Jeep it by “Dashing through the snow…” with my mother in tow.
The parking lot was empty except for the handful of store clerks who made it to work. We entered Belk Department Store, and salesclerks immediately surrounded us because we were the only customers. Mother was ecstatic, a dream come true for that consummate shopper. She got everything she wanted and a few other things she only wished someone else would buy her. Everything got wrapped beautifully, not sparing the paper or bows, and then, like Santa’s elves, the salesclerks carried them out to the Jeep.
It was only fair because Mother relieved them of boredom as her credit card single-handedly saved their bottom line—winner, winner, Christmas dinner saver. For years afterward, she regaled her friends and family about having the royal shopping experience of a lifetime. I was thrilled to give her that gift.
Although Mother’s been gone for twenty years, we shared many things: the same first name, Helen, the love of Christmas shopping, trekking in the snow, and finding Casey’s nasty chew toys under the sofa pillows.
I wish you special memories, a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year while staying out of snowdrifts.