I usually manage to get one column, if not more, out of the winter weather, and I’m happy Mother Nature has once again accommodated me.
Our area weather prognosticators have, as usual, prepared us well for this (so far) minor snowfall, broadcasting from various parts of our region showing proof of their predictions, then telling us what all of their models predict for the coming hours.
For those of us fortunate enough to be inside and safe, a festive atmosphere has set in just as we have taken down the holiday decorations.
As I am preparing to file this installment on Friday morning, snow is falling steadily. Williamson
County students were cheated out of a snow day as it is the last day of their winter break. My understanding is school officials just to our north in Davidson County (where classes resumed earlier in the week) waited until the school bell rang this morning before saying, “Never mind. Go back home.”
I have no official information, but I’m guessing, since this is his first experience with Middle Tennessee snow, the new director of Metro schools decided not to go too easy on students when this snow event was predicted. “What’s a ‘dusting’ anyway?” he might have thought.
Maybe he’ll know better next time. When the white stuff is predicted, parents expect to receive the notice of school closings on their cell phones when they’re at the grocery store stocking up on milk, bread and, as appropriate, adult beverages (thanks to the new laws in Tennessee) for the coming blizzard.
Perhaps he’s receiving grace this time, but I expect his phone and social media accounts are blowing up. Again, he might think differently when this happens again.
A usual, and as I have previously written, the snow makes me wax nostalgic.
Not so long ago, with three children at home, after days of wondering aloud (mostly by my daughter) whether the schools would be closed due to a predicted winter storm, there would be wild celebrating when word finally came that those snow dances had been effective and school was canceled.
If the cancellation happened mid-day, mad chaos would ensue, trying to get everyone home and dodging the crazies on the roads.
There was the time my oldest brought two friends home from Brentwood High School when classes were dismissed early for snow, and they stayed three days, giving new meaning to the term “eating us out of house and home.” (That was the same day it took me three hours to drive home from downtown Nashville).
Snow days meant a pile of wet boots, gloves (largely unmatched), scarves and long underwear at the back door, with a trail of wetness in the kitchen.
It meant a neurotic little dog barking at the door to get out, who would then run like crazy through the white powder, stopping only to make yellow markings on white, then coming back in to see if he could make a similar impression on the carpet.
It meant special treats like snow ice cream and hot chocolate, marathon board and card games, and movie watching if we had been able to make it by Blockbuster (I’m dating myself) before the weather set in.
Today I am enjoying sitting at my big kitchen window, typing away and watching the snow swirl outside, as I am safe and warm inside, with a stocked pantry.
But I’ll probably take a stroll around the neighborhood shortly and see if anyone’s up for a snowball fight.
Because I’ll never be too old for a snow day.
Bob McKinney is a longtime Brentwood resident, husband of one, father of three and father-in-law of two. Email him at email@example.com.