We've entered a time warp

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When my kids have a snow day, we hear about it via an automated text and a phone call from our school district, usually at an ungodly hour in the morning. But when I was a kid,  finding out you had a snow day meant listening to the radio or watching the local news for minutes that felt like hours.

On the snowy mornings of yesteryear, my brother and I would huddle around a clock radio. We’d shush each other through the alphabetical list of neighboring Connecticut towns (Glastonbury, Newington, Rocky Hill) to hear if school superintendents there had called off school. We were absolutely silent during the “Ws,” when we’d listen for the announcer to get to Wethersfield, our hometown.

Hearing “Wethersfield, canceled” over the radio static felt like victory. A free pass. The answer we’d hoped for while crossing all our fingers and toes the night before. Snow days meant sledding, snow forts and snowball fights with the kids down the street. If I think about it hard enough, I can summon the smell of our wool boot inserts drying out on the radiator.

My kids haven’t had any snow days yet this year – we haven’t even had an hour delay. But it has been  much colder than recent winters, and Boston did get just under 14 inches of snow this month — and I’m all for it. (Though the 110 inches of white stuff we got a decade ago, while character-building, was a bit much.)

Some people shrug off snow’s magic as they get older. I, however, am not one of those people.

On the morning of Martin Luther King Jr. Day and Inauguration Day ( Jan. 20), we woke up to about six fluffy inches. In years past, I’ve taken my kids to the Boston Children’s Chorus’ MLK tribute concert at Symphony Hall ( a wonderful event if you’ve never been). But this year, my family and our close friends opted to complete what we deemed the winter “trifecta”: sledding, skiing and skating, all in one day. There was also yoga and a quick sauna visit, for the moms.

It was a squeaker to get it all in. But we hit the hat trick — in the daylight — and I’m so glad. Because since then, we’ve entered some sort of time warp triggered by a fusillade of news.

President Trump was very clear about his intentions should he win a second term. Now his administration is making good on those campaign promises.

As Sandro Galea wrote for us this week:

The Trump administration has acted in accordance with what it sees as its mandate to change the country and its engagement with the world. The steps it has taken are sweeping and include, among other things, withdrawing the U.S. from the Paris Climate Agreement and the World Health Organization, as well as banning DEI in the federal government, announcing an intention to reevaluate U.S. energy policy with eye towards developing domestic energy resources, pushing to end birthright citizenship and renaming the Gulf of Mexico.

Add to the on-going barrage of news an earthquake, ICE raid rumors and fears, an aviation tragedy and contentious Senate hearings for Trump’s cabinet nominees, it’s no wonder the week and a half since our “snow trifecta” feels like it might as well have been a year ago. I care about all these things and believe it’s important to pay attention. It’s just a lot to metabolize..

Enter Wendell Berry’s poem, “Like Snow.”

Suppose we did our work
like the snow, quietly, quietly.
leaving nothing out.

I love the simple honesty of these three lines. One tiny flake at a time, snow manages to cover every inch. Every branch. Every fencepost and blade of grass. Its steady, silent work stops us, makes us slow down.

On Jan. 20, that’s what my family did. We took a breather from our regular routine to just have fun. It’s the stuff of Jan Donley’s essay about snags (the kind found in nature, not annoying hiccups like bad traffic and soured milk). Jan is writing about the dead trees, still rooted, that provide hiding places, foraging spots and nesting sites for wildlife. Her piece is a beautiful reflection on belonging, and in her telling, snags are a place to take refuge; a place to take a load off.

Turns out, that trifecta snow day was a snag, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. It’s something I can return to and remember, until I find my next spot to rest.

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