Northern Exposure
The alarm clock starts to buzz. Kids all over the country wake-up from deep slumber, crack open an eyelid, hoist themselves up on one elbow, and peek through the window shade to look at what Mother Nature has left overnight.
If the ground is predominantly green or brown, the child will realize that school will proceed as scheduled, and they will lazily slap the snooze button a few more times until Mom runs in and intercedes on behalf of public education.
If the ground is predominantly white, it may be interpreted a number of different ways.
For those children in the upper East Coast, or in the Midwest around the Great Lakes, "mostly" white will not cut it--schools will be open. Of course, there is always the outside chance that sheets of black ice now cover the roadways, or horrendously low temperatures coupled with sub-arctic wind chill render it dangerous for human beings to be exposed to the elements for any sustained period of time. Under these circumstances, making a trip to school (even by big yellow bus) would be hazardous to life and limb. Even the most negligent parent would concede that the school administrators probably made the right call to cancel classes for the day. These types of closings are rare indeed, and therefore the Yankee child is best suited resigning themselves to their fate: school is happening, get up, get some brain-food, and prepare for 8 hours of institutional education.
However, for those kiddies in the South, like for example, oh I don't know...Tennessee....patches of white outside of their bedroom windows might as well be : a sign that God does indeed exist, and he wants the children to be happy. You see, a quarter-inch of snow in the South, even the mere threat of flakes, mobilizes the populace like a true harbinger of doom: stores are raided, cars stay in their garages, and fresh wood is cut and brought inside as thousands hunker down to ride out the snow. Nevermind that it doesn't qualify as a "snow storm." Hell, it doesn't even qualify as legitimate "accumulation." The second the white-stuff starts to fall from the sky, it's as if God himself hurled heavenly angels at Earth and let them splat all-over the ground as a warning to mankind: thou shalt not learn today. Schools are cancelled en masse. Dozens of radio stations pump the message into cozy homes all across the County. Thousands of children, previously sedated by the very notion of attending school, suddenly spring to life, don their snowsuits and trek into the Winter Wonderland for a day of celebration. Simply put, it's just too wintery out to learn today.
This same ritual is performed time and time again hundreds of thousands of times in every county north of the Mason-Dixon line between the months of November and March. For Northern children, this is a cold, dark, and nearly interminable period of time. Everybody in hte North wishes for less snow so they can get more done. For Southern children, this is a time of hope and longing, interspersed with blissful ignorance. Everyone in the South wishes for more snow so they can get less done.
[Bangs head against desk until secretary comes to check on him].
The stark dichotomy is one that I still cannot get used to.
If there should ever be another war between North and South, I know now how the Yankees can be victorious--snow machines. Cripple the enemy, lull them into a false sense of security with our snow creating devices.
"Surely, y'all won't attack us while it's snowin', would y'all?"
When I am crowned King of the Southeast, and my enemies remain powerless as they cower from the might of my snow-maker, remember the secret to my success: I went to school. Even in the snow.
Who knew I might brag about that one day?
If the ground is predominantly green or brown, the child will realize that school will proceed as scheduled, and they will lazily slap the snooze button a few more times until Mom runs in and intercedes on behalf of public education.
If the ground is predominantly white, it may be interpreted a number of different ways.
For those children in the upper East Coast, or in the Midwest around the Great Lakes, "mostly" white will not cut it--schools will be open. Of course, there is always the outside chance that sheets of black ice now cover the roadways, or horrendously low temperatures coupled with sub-arctic wind chill render it dangerous for human beings to be exposed to the elements for any sustained period of time. Under these circumstances, making a trip to school (even by big yellow bus) would be hazardous to life and limb. Even the most negligent parent would concede that the school administrators probably made the right call to cancel classes for the day. These types of closings are rare indeed, and therefore the Yankee child is best suited resigning themselves to their fate: school is happening, get up, get some brain-food, and prepare for 8 hours of institutional education.
However, for those kiddies in the South, like for example, oh I don't know...Tennessee....patches of white outside of their bedroom windows might as well be : a sign that God does indeed exist, and he wants the children to be happy. You see, a quarter-inch of snow in the South, even the mere threat of flakes, mobilizes the populace like a true harbinger of doom: stores are raided, cars stay in their garages, and fresh wood is cut and brought inside as thousands hunker down to ride out the snow. Nevermind that it doesn't qualify as a "snow storm." Hell, it doesn't even qualify as legitimate "accumulation." The second the white-stuff starts to fall from the sky, it's as if God himself hurled heavenly angels at Earth and let them splat all-over the ground as a warning to mankind: thou shalt not learn today. Schools are cancelled en masse. Dozens of radio stations pump the message into cozy homes all across the County. Thousands of children, previously sedated by the very notion of attending school, suddenly spring to life, don their snowsuits and trek into the Winter Wonderland for a day of celebration. Simply put, it's just too wintery out to learn today.
This same ritual is performed time and time again hundreds of thousands of times in every county north of the Mason-Dixon line between the months of November and March. For Northern children, this is a cold, dark, and nearly interminable period of time. Everybody in hte North wishes for less snow so they can get more done. For Southern children, this is a time of hope and longing, interspersed with blissful ignorance. Everyone in the South wishes for more snow so they can get less done.
[Bangs head against desk until secretary comes to check on him].
The stark dichotomy is one that I still cannot get used to.
If there should ever be another war between North and South, I know now how the Yankees can be victorious--snow machines. Cripple the enemy, lull them into a false sense of security with our snow creating devices.
"Surely, y'all won't attack us while it's snowin', would y'all?"
When I am crowned King of the Southeast, and my enemies remain powerless as they cower from the might of my snow-maker, remember the secret to my success: I went to school. Even in the snow.
Who knew I might brag about that one day?
tale spun by Cherith Cutestory at 7:19 AM
2 Comments:
JB, you are such a twig. You can't take your townie vengeance out on an entire region of the nation, even if it is red-states.
To my mind, you are merely bitching because you DIDN'T have the opportunity to understand what a snow-day means in the south.
Truly, it is miraculous. Even when it's been at its worst during my - christ - ten years in the middle west, it still does not cease to cast a sense of wonder over me when it starts falling.
Once I gotta trudge my way through it, or wait for the L in it, that's another story. But you don't have to take my word for it.
You would do well to heed the third axiom of a Notre Dame student: Do not underestimate townie vengeance. My war-monerging knows no bounds.
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