The Snow Princess

Something big will happen in the life of Clara Condon today.

How do I know this? The girl likes to make an entrance, and for some reason, she’s tapped “driving snow” as her entrance theme. I have no problem with this – she’s just showing me that she has daddy’s sense of humor. She’s being raised in a town where people go DEFCOM RUN FOR YOUR LIVES at the mere mention of fluffy, white precipitation. There will come a time in elementary school where Clara will have to give a book report (probably The Polar Express) in front of the class and she’ll find a way to make it snow inside the classroom.

That’s the difference between an A and an A-plus, kiddo.

As I sit here typing up this post, my window reveals that we’ve got somewhere between 1 and 2 inches of snow on the ground. I can’t imagine it’s going to accumulate much more than that, but I assume anything is possible when your local weather people are less for the nerdy and more for the pretty. Schools will probably begin closing prematurely shortly. You know, because there’s nothing better for snow traffic than working parents rushing out of their places of work in order to be home when their kids arrive in 40 minutes, and it’s going to take Mach 1 speed to ensure a smooth delivery.

Clara’s just biding her time.

You see, the girl has a history of using snow to mark important milestones in her life. On the day she was born, DC received a solid 4-6 inches of snow. Of course, I didn’t have to drive in it – our 2:30 AM arrival time to the hospital JUST preceded the impending flurries, and our 72 hours stay gave Mother Nature just enough time to defrost the highways and melt the snow off of our car. The storm came and went, and all the while Clara spent her time inside a hospital wondering why it’s so much colder on the outside, and who’s the tall freak who insists on rocking her like she’s on a Viking ship.

Even before that, many of the womenfolk in the area wished to celebrate Clara’s arrival by throwing Katie a shower. The venue was in Manassas, and true to form, the snow and ice came down mere hours before the festivities were to begin. Many had to turn back that day and miss out on the party – the vehicles of this region are ill-equipped to drive in Zambonied conditions. (I spent the day slip-sliding in Caro’s Civic.) Why did this happen on this particular day? My guess is that if left people show up, that’s more cake for Katie. And more cake for Katie means more cake for Clara. I’m onto you.

But even for those who missed the shower, surely they’d be able to attend Clara’s first big public party: Oscar Party IV. Putting together an Oscar Party in 10 days is not easy, and having an 8 pound, 12 ounce baby in one arm whilst coordinating the rest proved to be a challenge. Fortunately, Katie granted me the leave to film this year’s video. But when it was time for the curtain to go up? Snow everywhere. Apparently, Clara didn’t this year’s films. I can’t blame her. Babel was overrated.

So as the snow continues to come down, I can’t help but think that Clara’s at home right now planning something huge. Walking across the room, at this point, seems too simplistic, based on the amount of white falling from the sky. Knowing her, it’ll be a show-stopper.

Like conversational French.

The Eastern Snowboard

I think I’ve made it clear that I don’t think too highly of the DC region’s ability to handle snowfall. From school cancellations in case there might be snow, to unimpressive plowing capacity, to neighbors who probably would use a George Foreman Grill to defrost their mirrors, our Nation’s Capital panics, as if they were at a disco. And I’m not saying my hometown was that much better, since a mere 3 inches of snow could allow me to sleep in on a school day. However, both regions can’t compare to my benchmark – Oswego, New York. I have two family members that attended college there, and can speak of the horror stories that come with lake-effect snow (and one of said family members can also tell you he’s never coached a Louis.)

12 feet of snow, people.

(Yes, I know this happened a few weeks ago, but this post isn’t meant to break news. In fact, if we break anything, the Blogger Gods are going to keep our security deposit. Last time I sign a lease while playing Playstation.)

I still get excited when I wake up and it’s snowing. Sure, all it means now is that the commute will be slower and I’ll get to see a Jetta slide into a van or something, but it’s worth it. I never really got into the whole “building a snowman” thing anyway. In my day, we built forts. Glorified, asymmetric igloos that held a clearance of about 2 feet and were completely impenetrable. (Assuming one’s adversary, you know, was afraid of snow or didn’t think of sitting down on it.) On most days that we had off there was so little snow that it would require 2.5 yards of white stuff to build the fort. Needless to say, I haven’t seen 12 feet of snow in my life.

But as I see a mighty 1/8th of an inch accumulate outside my office window, I think back to the 3 Worst Snowstorms of My Life.

3) I-95, VA – February 2003 – Upon leaving my alma mater at 9PM after a full day of action, my old hallmate Justin Moore said to me, “Hey, it’s starting to snow – if you want to crash here, that’s cool with me.” I responded, “No, I think I can get ahead of it, but thanks for the offer.”

Whoops.

For those unfamiliar with the route, it’s about 130 miles between Williamsburg and Alexandria. That should take even a cautious driver about 2 and a half hours. Throw in the fact that it’s a Saturday night and there’s no traffic – that may be closer to 2. Throw in 23 inches of blinding snow? Well, that might change things a little.

5 hours later, I was back in Northern Virginia. But not before cleaning out the Fredericksburg Wawa of every bottle of Mountain Dew they owned.

2) Medford, NJ – January 1996 – Ah, the Blizzard of the Century (way to procrastinate there, Mother Nature.) Jersey got 30 inches of snow, forcing the Garden State to close the Turnpike from end to end and Shawnee High School to cancel classes for a week. Why do I remember this so vividly?

Part of my U.S. History I coursework was to do a book report concerning an aspect of our Nation’s Past. However, we didn’t exactly have a surplus of titles to select from. As per the instructions, we had to read a book by James Michener. For those who don’t know, James Michener is Literature’s Peter Jackson. He has never found an anecdote he doesn’t like, and he doesn’t believe in editing. He writes books of epic length and then names them after the geographical setting. I read his book Alaska. Sort of.

It’s 868 pages long, and if it hadn’t been for the Blizzard of ’96, I may have only read 86 of them. Thanks for getting my back and dumping an icy catastrophe on my school district, God.

1) Boston, MA – March 1997 – I accompanied the Morea clan to the city of Boston in order to check out a few potential locales for higher education. It was an ambitious 2 day trip we had planned, hoping to look a 4 schools. The morning at Tufts started innocently enough, and even though there was snow in the forecast, our tour guide proudly boasted, “New England winters are cold, but we have never had to cancel classes an account of snow.” I guess that was her showing us their commitment to academics or something. As we moved on to Harvard in the afternoon, the snow began to fall. It all seemed kind of perfect. You know, it was the oldest university in the country with the sweet architecture and the sparkling reputation – they could probably make it snow on command for prospective students.

We made it back to our hotel after a hot meal and went to bed early – after all, we still had Boston U. and BC to check out tomorrow. However, 36 inches of snow OVERNIGHT changed those plans. We were snowed in for three straight days to that hotel, and were so bored that we brushed off other people’s cars to pass the time. Moral of the story?

Only liars go to Tufts University.