My OperaSnow and Winter in the Fifties Part II
Friday, March 7, 2008 2:04:59 AM
Excerpt from Sledding Past the Lawyer's Office
Yesterday's temperature reached 52, and this is March 6. So I'd better get moving on posting the second part of my essay about snow, sledding, skating, snowballs and winter in the fifties. Next thing you know, I'll have birds on my window sill.
****
...In the cold, snowy winter, the Davidge Park Pond [Davidge Park is officially Fancher-Davidge Park] froze over and was used for ice-skating. There was a little warming shack, a barrel of fire, and an attendant or two. A sign would tell us how thick the ice was, sort of a Nileometer for Middletown. If the ice was too thin, no one was allowed to skate. Too thick an ice cover was never a problem. That would have meant a serious cold snap that nobody wanted, and the pond would have a substantial ice cover. Besides, is there a thickness too thick for skating? I doubt it, though skating on a very thick surface might be like skating on a rocky glacier.
The City cleaned the snow off the frozen pond with a small tractor. From my point of view, if the ice held up for the tractor, it could probably hold up for me. Because of the distance from home to the pond and the cold weather in Middletown, we didn't ride bikes to the pond. Dad drove us, so we only went at night.
The only ice skates I had access to were ill-fitting, thirty-year old figure skates. I couldn't balance on them very well. Actually, I could barely stand up, and it didn't make a difference how many socks I wore. So I didn't do much ice-skating. I got tired after a while of my ankles folding and hurting like hell. I just wasn't getting any respect or support. It was fun, though, standing around and talking at the fire-in-a-barrel or the little hut with the gas heater, or throwing snowballs with the other non-skaters while our own feet froze.
I never observed anyone disappear under broken ice. The thickness meter out front warned us away if it was dangerous. And since the snow wouldn't have been cleaned off when the ice was too thin, there wouldn't have been much sense in trying to skate. Spring thaw was another thing, however. We knew the ice would shrink as the weather warmed, so we kept an eye on our Davidge 'Nileometer.'
When I was a little older, I was happy for a substantial snowfall for another reason. I took my shovel and roamed the neighborhood getting snow shoveling jobs for extra money. Yes, substantial snow. Only I didn't want moist, heavy snow more than a couple of inches. It weighed too much, slowed my progress, exhausted me, and cut into my profits.
I had some non-classmate acquaintances from public school. I saw them on occasion, mostly in the early evenings or an odd Saturday. Nicky was one who played baseball with us. It was one of these fellows I met up with one snowy Saturday. I was shoveling walks and he found me. He wanted us to work as a team so we could earn more money. I agreed, even though I couldn't remember his name. I still can't. He had wrapped his head with a loose bandage and added some red ink. He thought the “bloody' bandage would create sympathy and earn us more money for shoveling. I didn't object, but I didn't let him actively use it to con people. He said nothing about the bandage, and when asked he just shrugged it off. We worked hard, made money, and I don't think I ever saw him again.
These days, finding work to earn money in shoveling snow after a snowstorm is nearly impossible. Most people have snow blowers or children to do the dirty work. Driveways are ploughed by trucks or jeeps with plow attachments. There isn't much left for the energetic, kid snow shoveler.
In my high school years, the sledding impulse didn't leave me. With a bunch of guys and gals, we'd go tobogganing at what became known as 'Blood Hill.' I don't know who owned the property or the yard across the street where we parked, but we never saw anybody.
We spent many of our winter Saturdays at that 'Blood Hill.' It was located on the Goshen-Florida (NY) road. As noted, I don't remember who owned the place. In fact, I'm not sure I knew it at the time. We parked across the street at a farmhouse, but never saw anyone around. Actually, I think Pat knew the owners, and she arranged things. Nobody else knew for sure. Well, let's be correct. I didn't know. Some of the girls may have known from Pat. And I suppose Spencer knew because he was dating Pat at the time. But, we never went there without Pat. She was our required snow party planner.
'Blood Hill' received its name from us for the many minor injuries we incurred on the downhill runs. I think the toboggans were big enough for four people, and they turned over a lot. We weren't experts, and laughing all the time didn't help. At the bottom of the hill were a few silo stone foundation remnants. After those were the fence and the highway. To tell the truth, we had no business using that hill---but it was fun. I remember one time getting my leg caught under the speeding toboggan, but I managed to walk away from it. At least I never had bloody injuries. I can now imagine what liability the owners were open to, but that thought never crossed anyone's mind.
Afterwards, we'd go to Pat's house for hot chocolate. During senior year, we always seemed to find ourselves at Pat's house. We liked her parents and they liked us, so we had parties there on a regular basis. Spring parties. Summer parties. Swim parties. Autumn parties. Winter parties. Celebratory parties. Christmas parties. Graduation parties. Sometimes, it was just a simple Sunday afternoon attended by a small number of friends who didn't live all that far away–of course it always included Spencer who was dating Pat. During one Christmas party I remember, we sloshed through the snow to sing Christmas Carols for the inmates at the county jail---inexplicably built near our school. We never got any feedback about that. So I don't know whether we shared our holiday spirit with them or annoyed them. Afterwards? Sure, back to Pat's.
***
'Ah yes,' the Muse said yesterday. 'Those were the days. The days of innocence and carefree existence. We had no drug or alcohol problems, and we were a friendly and loyal group. The tobogganing, the parties, the Senior Play.....' I rolled over and snored my way to bliss again.
Yesterday's temperature reached 52, and this is March 6. So I'd better get moving on posting the second part of my essay about snow, sledding, skating, snowballs and winter in the fifties. Next thing you know, I'll have birds on my window sill.
****
...In the cold, snowy winter, the Davidge Park Pond [Davidge Park is officially Fancher-Davidge Park] froze over and was used for ice-skating. There was a little warming shack, a barrel of fire, and an attendant or two. A sign would tell us how thick the ice was, sort of a Nileometer for Middletown. If the ice was too thin, no one was allowed to skate. Too thick an ice cover was never a problem. That would have meant a serious cold snap that nobody wanted, and the pond would have a substantial ice cover. Besides, is there a thickness too thick for skating? I doubt it, though skating on a very thick surface might be like skating on a rocky glacier.
The City cleaned the snow off the frozen pond with a small tractor. From my point of view, if the ice held up for the tractor, it could probably hold up for me. Because of the distance from home to the pond and the cold weather in Middletown, we didn't ride bikes to the pond. Dad drove us, so we only went at night.
The only ice skates I had access to were ill-fitting, thirty-year old figure skates. I couldn't balance on them very well. Actually, I could barely stand up, and it didn't make a difference how many socks I wore. So I didn't do much ice-skating. I got tired after a while of my ankles folding and hurting like hell. I just wasn't getting any respect or support. It was fun, though, standing around and talking at the fire-in-a-barrel or the little hut with the gas heater, or throwing snowballs with the other non-skaters while our own feet froze.
I never observed anyone disappear under broken ice. The thickness meter out front warned us away if it was dangerous. And since the snow wouldn't have been cleaned off when the ice was too thin, there wouldn't have been much sense in trying to skate. Spring thaw was another thing, however. We knew the ice would shrink as the weather warmed, so we kept an eye on our Davidge 'Nileometer.'
When I was a little older, I was happy for a substantial snowfall for another reason. I took my shovel and roamed the neighborhood getting snow shoveling jobs for extra money. Yes, substantial snow. Only I didn't want moist, heavy snow more than a couple of inches. It weighed too much, slowed my progress, exhausted me, and cut into my profits.
I had some non-classmate acquaintances from public school. I saw them on occasion, mostly in the early evenings or an odd Saturday. Nicky was one who played baseball with us. It was one of these fellows I met up with one snowy Saturday. I was shoveling walks and he found me. He wanted us to work as a team so we could earn more money. I agreed, even though I couldn't remember his name. I still can't. He had wrapped his head with a loose bandage and added some red ink. He thought the “bloody' bandage would create sympathy and earn us more money for shoveling. I didn't object, but I didn't let him actively use it to con people. He said nothing about the bandage, and when asked he just shrugged it off. We worked hard, made money, and I don't think I ever saw him again.
These days, finding work to earn money in shoveling snow after a snowstorm is nearly impossible. Most people have snow blowers or children to do the dirty work. Driveways are ploughed by trucks or jeeps with plow attachments. There isn't much left for the energetic, kid snow shoveler.
In my high school years, the sledding impulse didn't leave me. With a bunch of guys and gals, we'd go tobogganing at what became known as 'Blood Hill.' I don't know who owned the property or the yard across the street where we parked, but we never saw anybody.
We spent many of our winter Saturdays at that 'Blood Hill.' It was located on the Goshen-Florida (NY) road. As noted, I don't remember who owned the place. In fact, I'm not sure I knew it at the time. We parked across the street at a farmhouse, but never saw anyone around. Actually, I think Pat knew the owners, and she arranged things. Nobody else knew for sure. Well, let's be correct. I didn't know. Some of the girls may have known from Pat. And I suppose Spencer knew because he was dating Pat at the time. But, we never went there without Pat. She was our required snow party planner.
'Blood Hill' received its name from us for the many minor injuries we incurred on the downhill runs. I think the toboggans were big enough for four people, and they turned over a lot. We weren't experts, and laughing all the time didn't help. At the bottom of the hill were a few silo stone foundation remnants. After those were the fence and the highway. To tell the truth, we had no business using that hill---but it was fun. I remember one time getting my leg caught under the speeding toboggan, but I managed to walk away from it. At least I never had bloody injuries. I can now imagine what liability the owners were open to, but that thought never crossed anyone's mind.
Afterwards, we'd go to Pat's house for hot chocolate. During senior year, we always seemed to find ourselves at Pat's house. We liked her parents and they liked us, so we had parties there on a regular basis. Spring parties. Summer parties. Swim parties. Autumn parties. Winter parties. Celebratory parties. Christmas parties. Graduation parties. Sometimes, it was just a simple Sunday afternoon attended by a small number of friends who didn't live all that far away–of course it always included Spencer who was dating Pat. During one Christmas party I remember, we sloshed through the snow to sing Christmas Carols for the inmates at the county jail---inexplicably built near our school. We never got any feedback about that. So I don't know whether we shared our holiday spirit with them or annoyed them. Afterwards? Sure, back to Pat's.
***
'Ah yes,' the Muse said yesterday. 'Those were the days. The days of innocence and carefree existence. We had no drug or alcohol problems, and we were a friendly and loyal group. The tobogganing, the parties, the Senior Play.....' I rolled over and snored my way to bliss again.
