It All Melts Away

It All Melts Away

“If you ever find two snowflakes that are exactly alike, don’t bring them inside.”

                                                                                                       - My Dad

Okay, I’ll admit it. She wasn’t completely lacking in talent, but the four pillars of her stunning Won-Loss record were:

-       She was sneaky.

-       She was ruthless.

-       She was relentless.

-       She cheated.

 Gamblers would have been wise to put their money on the proverbial snowball in hell rather than backing me in any of the epic battles fought on snow or ice over all those years.

Old people should stay busy. It helps them to remain vertical and above ground. And it helps to keep the mind from wandering off into those bittersweet memories of their kids growing up. Looking out the window at the abandoned sledding hill, the first snowflakes of the year lazily drifting down from a grey sky open the floodgates of reflection, smiles mingled with the occasional tear.

On those occasions when she can make it back home, the subject inevitably comes up. Rachel still arrogantly touts her record of 387 Wins and no losses in our wintery competitions:

Snowman Building- 28 Wins, no losses.

Snow Angels- 114 Wins, no losses.

Ice Skating Races- 42 Wins, no losses.

Pizza Delivery- 17 Wins, no losses.

Dare- 5 Wins, no losses.

Sledding for Distance- 103 Wins, no losses.

Combat Sledding- 78 Wins, no losses.

It was the Harlem Globetrotters beating up on the Washington Generals, or Marciano and Mayweather beating up on everyone. But, although she vehemently objects, I say there should be a qualifying asterisk placed next to the results of all our competitions.

Life is replete with poor losers. Rachel was a poor winner, maybe the worst. As I would lie in the snow looking up at the stars on a brisk winter night, suffering the anguish of defeat, she would do her shameless victory dance, conjuring up the image of Ali standing over Frazier after decking him. She was never in the running for the Sportsmanship Award.

The snow is picking up. There might be enough for the neighbor kids to build a snowman later this afternoon if it’s good packing. I like seeing their snowmen, snow forts, and snowball fights… most of the time. Sometimes it takes me back too far to those days gone by, never to return. Good memories are sometimes tinged with sadness. I remember it all.

We were blessed. Our home was a winter wonderland, sitting atop a hill and located on a small lake, the landscape we so enjoyed courtesy of glaciers that passed this way thousands of years ago. The sledding hill was marred by several large trees, and we piled potato sacks stuffed with hay at their base to prevent injury. (I always told my kids’ friends- “Don’t worry about hitting a tree; we have other trees.”) The setting invited an exciting array of contests.

Sledding for Distance

Right out of the gate, the Sledding for Distance competition will demonstrate just how unfair these contests were. There were several cedar trees near the end of the run. My size required that I (abruptly) stop (with varying degrees of discomfort) when I reached the lower branches while Rachel was able to assume a perfect luge position and gracefully glide under the branches consistently gaining an additional 10 to 15 feet. The layout of the course gave new meaning to the term “hitting the wall” for all riders larger than Rachel, and I strongly feel the results of the competition should be discounted.

---------

From the window, I can see the low-hanging branches on those cedar trees being dusted with snow. It is nature’s cleansing, covering the earth in a bright white blanket, everything fresh and clean, a time of renewal. But for some, it may put the mind in reverse, a return to days gone by. I can remember her laughing as she slid underneath the branches and reappeared moments later, scrambling to her feet, and half-singing, half shouting, “We are the Champions…”

We’re getting more snow than predicted. Maybe I should get out there and shovel. My Dad always said it’s easier to shovel 3” of snow four times than it is to shovel a foot of snow once. Oh, shoot, I forgot. I hired the kid from down the street to shovel for me. But I should get outside and do something.

Combat Sledding

First one to the cedar trees wins. Riders were allowed to do anything and everything to disrupt their opponent’s ride down the hill. I had the size advantage, but Rachel’s level of chicanery, grit, and sheer aggression were unmatched. Hand-to-hand combat usually came to a draw, but then Rachel, à la the Lone Ranger leaping from his horse to knock the bad guy off his, would fly through the air and crash into me, causing my out-of-control sled to flip or veer off into the bushes.

Since Combat Sledding has no rules, the actions up to this point were acceptable, but this is where the cheating comes in. Rachel’s now riderless sled would continue down the hill to the cedar trees, and the ruthless Rachel would claim victory. This was totally, completely, and unambiguously unfair. I have been to Arlington Park many times, and anyone who has ever “played the ponies” knows that a horse must reach the finish line with its rider aboard in order to bask in the glory of the winner’s circle. All results of the Combat Sledding competition should be tossed.

----------

The kids in the neighborhood will likely be out playing in the snow today. The little girl next door is such a sweetheart. Molly- she’s only five, but she tries so hard to keep up with the older kids. She reminds me of my Rachel. There’s a pretty good sledding hill at City Park, just a few blocks away. Maybe I’ll walk over there later to see if any kids are sledding.

----------

Snowman Building

There was an inherent fault in this competition as the results were based on subjective judging. With just two judges, myself and Rachel, and neither of us willing to give the other an ounce of credit for artistic merit, the contest inevitably ended in a tie. This is where all sense of fair play is left smoldering in the ashes of Rachel’s near-demonic drive to win at all costs.

I see it coming and go into full protective mode. I have once again shown my penchant for creativity by constructing a snow bunny rather than the uninspiring portrayal of the traditional (boring) snowman. You’d think the ears would be the hard part, but after years of perfecting my craft, I have once again topped my creation with very respectable bunny ears, impressive in length with a hint of a droop. The body is good, and the bunny tail is more than acceptable. Surprisingly, it was the feet that gave me the most trouble.

Rachel zooms in on it like a laser beam. She bobs and weaves, a fake step here, a jab there, and finally the all-out attack. I try to defend my stunning creation, but Rachel is too quick. She throws herself into the defenseless snow bunny with the fervor of Butkus taking down a running back. In a moment, it is over, the snow bunny shattered into unrecognizable clumps of snow. I mourn the loss and cry “Foul!” while the heartless Rachel celebrates her victory based on the newly created theory of “last one standing”.

Treachery and foul play should not be rewarded. Her meaningless victories should not only be deleted from the record books but Rachel should be banned for life from all snowman-building competitions.

---------

Damn. It still bothers me that I couldn’t get the feet right. That should have been the easy part. Too much snow, the feet are too big, not enough separation. I should have practiced when she wasn’t around.

---------

Pizza Delivery

It is unlikely that you have heard of this winter sports event, and it probably won’t be part of the next Olympic Games, but it is a highly skilled and competitive exercise in speed, endurance, and dexterity. The event can only take place in ideal and unfortunately relatively rare conditions. First, you need snow, at least 4-5 inches. Then you need a layer of crust to form on the snow, either from a light rain or a little thawing of the top layer of snow followed by a freeze.

Competitors use their gloved index finger to carve out their pizza pie from the snow’s crust. The piece must be at least 12” in diameter and can only be harvested from the area beyond the willow trees near the lake. The pizza pie will then be delivered to the base of the large oak tree approximately 100 feet from the willow trees to be consumed by imaginary people who live inside the oak tree.

Rachel again goes on offense. Her strategy is not to deliver as many pizzas to the oak tree as possible but rather to keep me from delivering any. The treacherous tactic proves to be remarkably effective as she karate chops pizza after pizza from my hands as I trudge through the snow, sending them to the same ignominious fate as the poor snow bunnies. I resort (in self-defense) to attempting to destroy Rachel’s pizzas before she can deliver them, but she is crafty and quicker than I am, and she manages to deliver one or two, which is all that it takes to claim another ill-gotten victory.

Again, the conclusion is obvious. Her record of 32 Wins and no Losses is severely tainted by the highly illegal tactics of demolishing my pizzas before they could be delivered. Enough said.

----------

Ah, the mind of a child and the world of make-believe. It was all so much fun, more fun than I ever had since. I wish I could have fed her a little Peter Pan porridge to keep her that age forever. I can see the old oak tree through the window, and I lament the fact those tiny little imaginary people will go hungry again this year.

---------

 Ice Skating Races

Despite my own Father’s admonition that “A good scout doesn’t blame his equipment”, I always felt I was handicapped by my rusty, old Planerts which hadn’t been sharpened for more than a decade. My confidence was shot before I reached the starting line. That and truth be told, Rachel was pretty quick on her skates, shiny new ones purchased by her mother, no doubt as part of their conspiracy to further embarrass me in my clumsy efforts on ice.

One lap around the small island. “One, two…”, and Rachel took off without waiting for the customary “three”. Sometimes the early departure would be preceded by a forceful shove that nearly dropped me to the ice. I usually panicked at this point, and my frantic efforts to catch up most often resulted in random acts of slipping and sliding with no discernable forward movement.

Even without taking the obvious inequities in equipment into account, all 42 First Place medals needed to be rescinded and awarded to me as Rachel should have been immediately disqualified for her false starts and for violating all norms of athletic competition and human decency. You don’t win the Masters by kicking your ball out of the bunker, and you don’t win speedskating contests by jumping the gun.

----------

With the leaves off the trees, I can see the island from the window. God, I wish I could see her bright blue hat and yellow scarf flapping in the wind as she rounded the island and headed for the home stretch. We used to walk across the ice and do a little exploring on the island. I haven’t been out there for years. Maybe this winter I’ll take a walk out there. Sadly, I won’t need a thermos with hot chocolate and two cups.

Dare

As the result of Rachel’s cold-hearted, relentless pressure, this event was added to the list of challenges. I still question the wisdom of acceding to the cunning Rachel’s demands.

The premise was simple. Rachel dares me, and then I dare Rachel, to test the early ice. The challenge was to walk from the end of the pier to the big rock on the shoreline 30’ away. The ice would have been considered unsafe by all clear-thinking humans, but it was not an Evil Knieval death-defying endeavor as the water was only 2’ deep in the area.

Again, I was at a serious disadvantage. One or two inches of ice will not safely support a person’s weight…unless you happen to be a small child… like Rachel. Me? Not so much. I never worried about drowning, but I did occasionally entertain fears of freezing to death.

Five challenges over the years, and I busted through the ice all five times, each time a colder experience than the year before.

Because I weighed three times more than Rachel, all results of the Dare challenge are meaningless and should be deleted from the record books, as well as from human memory.

----------

The lengths dads will go to spend time with their children. My eyes still tear up when I think of landing in that freezing cold water, my aching shins smashing into the ice as I plowed my way to shore, and the mad dash to the house. The anxious moments of knowing what was coming were as troubling as the actual event.

It will be another week or two before we get that early ice. When the ice was smooth as glass before it thawed and refrozed, and before it was covered with snow, we would fling small stones out onto the ice. They would slide forever and make the coolest sounds with the pitch changing with the diminishing thickness of the ice along the way. I might do that again when we get that early ice. Maybe it will be timed just right, and Rachel and I could down to the lake at Christmas and throw small stones out onto the ice and listen to them sliding across the surface. I’d like to do that.

The snow is coming down harder, and I can barely see the lake now, but I can still remember it all so well.

---------

Snow Angels

The worst for last, the cruelest blow of all. For my entire life, I excelled at making snow angels. I had a natural sense of symmetry and a real knack for extricating myself from the perfect design I left in the snow. It was all in weight distribution and foot placement.

Making snow angels had the same two inherent flaws as Snowman Building- the results were based on subjective judging, and there was no Security force present to protect my creations.

Perfect snow, bright white and fluffy, unmarred by man, beast, or bird, a flawless canvas ready for our artistic creations. We made our angels in the snow and then stepped back to admire our work. With each of us getting a vote, the competition always ended deadlocked at one-to-one.

 The tie-breaker was the same as seen with the Snowman Buiding. Rachel circled my angel, a tiger stalking its prey. Just as offensive linemen can’t protect their quarterback forever, I could only keep the cunning and cagey Rachel at bay for so long. She only needed a small opening and a couple of seconds, and she was on the angel, kicking and stomping, footprints in the face and obliterated wings, followed by her tasteless victory dance

This was akin to defacing the Mona Lisa or some other great work of art, and Rachel’s dastardly deeds of destruction should have been met with immediate disqualification.

---------

The snow kept on coming. It looked too soft and fluffy for Snowman Building, Ice Skating Races and Dare require Ice, Combat Sledding needs an adversary, and Pizza Delivery needs crusty snow. But by nightfall, it was perfect for Sledding for Distance and Snow Angels.

The place was the same, the snow was the same, but nothing was the same. I remember sliding down that hill with snow in my face and Rachel’s laughter in my ears. I remember pulling Rachel up the hill in her sled, over and over again. The hill somehow got steeper over the years, and there were more days and nights that Rachel was off with her friends and unavailable for sledding, snow angels, or anything.

I remember the smile on her face and the joy in my heart as she emerged from the other side of the cedars. I remember her sinister look as she made her final preparations for her charges at my snowy creations and my feigned efforts to defend my snow bunny and my angel.

Maybe I shouldn’t look out the window when it snows. That’s the problem with happy moments. They are tied to time, the enemy of all God’s creations. The good times pass, and memories aren’t the same, and just like the snowflakes, they can’t last forever. It all melts away, and you are left with the sad realization that life will never be as good as it once was.

How would I feel if I went outside right now and made an angel in the snow? Happy? Sad? I don’t want to risk it. I’m just too old and tired. Maybe I’ll just sit here and watch the snow fall tonight and then wait for Rachel to come home for Christmas. I hope we have snow while she’s here.