There’s No Business Like Snow Business

by Alison Lebovitz

There is nothing that tests the limits of a family better than a snowstorm. Especially when your family happens to live in the South. That’s because even the mere threat of a snowfall in the South triggers the same degrees of panic and preparation most would associate with a Cold War era threat of nuclear attack. Except instead of bomb shelters filled with canned goods we have basements filled with cheap sleds.

Well before the first snowflake ever hits the ground, we hit the ground running as we feverishly scrounge for the basic necessities – milk, eggs and Macaroni & Cheese. Even those of us who normally don’t eat eggs feel compelled to buy at least a dozen, just in case. We then travel to every WalMart, Target and sporting goods store within a 20-mile radius in hopes of finding waterproof clothing, plastic toboggans and WD-40, which we will need after transforming the pathetic hill in front of our house into an Olympic worthy luge track with just a plastic shovel and two inches of powder.

Of course, most of the time our prep work is done in vain, as the big promises of heavy snow usually amount to little more than the premature closing of schools and a light dusting that disappears by daybreak. But every so often, that Doppler Radar does right by us and we get a downright dumping. And it’s doggone delightful. For a day.

Yes, that first day is magical! Schools and offices are closed and people are dancing in the streets with their dogs and children. There are snowball fights, sledding and snowmen all over the city and all before breakfast. At lunchtime we bring homemade soups and fresh produce to our neighbors’ home for a potluck meal and a friendly game of poker surrounded by friends. We reminisce about the snowstorms of yesteryear as the white wonderland outside somehow makes the whole world seem merry and happy and bright.

Day two is not so cheerful. Schools and offices are still closed and in between sledding and hot cocoa breaks we strategically shovel our sidewalks and driveways in hopes of getting our two-wheel drive minivans out of our garages before spring. The eggs we purchased actually come in handy at the potluck neighborhood brunch, but instead of betting hands at poker we now sit around betting when school will ever be back in session. We also wonder when that white stuff will ever melt and when our kids will ever tire of playing in it.

Day three and beyond are just plain dreadful. As my friend Michael puts it, “Houseguests, fish and snow are all the same – after three days they’ve got to go.” What started as family bonding has quickly deteriorated into family bondage. We are texting anyone we know who has a four-wheel drive, hoping they can pick us up or at the very least drop off a babysitter. We are no longer arranging neighborhood meals, because we are now hoarding whatever food we have left and wondering why we bought milk but not toilet paper when we had the chance. And when the kids ask if we can have family poker night we tell them all bets are off and aren’t they sick of sledding and building snowmen yet? To which they always reply with enthusiasm, “No way, this is awesome!”

And that’s when we realize that all those wonderful memories we have about that “big snowstorm” when we were kids, are not, in fact, the same memories our parents have of those same times. For instance, I have fond memories of the time in1980 when there was a blizzard in Alabama and my mom cooked all of our meals on the outside grill and it was just like camping but we never had to leave our home and we all had a blast. My mother, however, remembers that as the week my father was stranded at a business meeting at the Ritz Carlton in Atlanta while she was stranded with three brats and a crazy dog in a house that had no power so she was forced to cook the entire freezer of defrosted food on the gas grill outside in 20 degree weather. I am just thankful my mother finally got that off her chest.

The forecast this week calls for snow on Tuesday night and the boys are already asking if school will be cancelled on Wednesday. To be safe, I have stocked up on milk, eggs, Macaroni & Cheese and toilet paper. And I have left a forwarding number where they can reach me.

At the Ritz.