Real Snow

Dad grew up in Iowa’s snow country before moving to Oklahoma. Occasionally a light snow would blanket the valley floor along the north coast of California. But it would soon disappear as the sun rose to its summit in the daytime sky.

Miniature snowmen of about one or two feet would suddenly appear. It was all that could be mustered from such a snowfall. And riding a piece of cardboard down a snow covered hillside was no more or less exciting than a grass slope in the summer.

Yet snow of any kind would shut down school for the day. Every child dreams of this and must take advantage of it. It is an obligation to say the least.

When Tommy was eighteen he saw his first real snow. It was Thanksgiving Day in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Over two feet of the fluffy white stuff fell in a single sleep. Tommy thought all that snow was so exciting, until he had to dig his way out of his home.

Dad had told him and Adam about how the snow would drift so high against his parent’s home, which he would have to climb out the second story window just to get to school. Then Dad would have to walk two miles to get to school. Suddenly Tommy appreciated that story and found himself believing every word too.

He had just purchased a brand new baby blue Ford pick-up truck also. The night before the snow fell, he drove it home from the car lot. Tommy was proud of his truck. Now he could go camping and fishing and hiking and he didn’t have to depend on anyone else for a ride.

Tommy walked out to the parking lot and looked around. Snow blanketed everything. Nothing looked the same, so Tommy did not panic when he could not find his truck at first.

He was certain he had parked the truck right there under the telephone pole with the street lamp on it. It was close to the curb, but now he couldn’t find the curb. All that Tommy could see was a gigantic mound of snow.

Then it dawned on Tommy and he felt a surge of panic. The snowplow had buried his brand new baby blue Ford pick-up truck under all of that snow. The pile was nearly thirty feet high and his next-door neighbors’ red Datsun was half buried too.

After calling the base commander and then his commanding officer, Tommy resigned himself to the fact that he’d have to wait to drive his brand new baby blue Ford pick-up truck. He ended up walking to work.

Two hours later Tommy was at work when he recalled what Dad used to say about not living in Iowa. “Here in Northern California, you don’t have to shovel rain,” he could hear Dad say.

It was late April when Tommy finally got to drive his brand new baby blue Ford pick-up truck.