So it wasn’t a surprise when I was getting out of the Way Back Machine the other day and got hit with a snowball.
As always, I programmed the WBM (Way Back machine) for Plymouth 1960 and off I went.
When I landed on Reynolds Street, I opened the hatch and “WHACK!” a snowball got me right in the chest.
It was good to see the old gang again — Wally the Wailer, Stevie the Screamer and Chrissy the Crier, who by the way always had a great arm and very accurate. He got me — Willy the Whiner — with a perfect toss, as usual.
It wasn’t surprising to be greeted this way — anytime any of us would exit our warm homes to go out and play in the snow to the risk of getting pummeled with snowballs as soon as the gang got an open target. It was part of our daily kid life in the neighborhood. There was no malice involved — we never aimed at the head. We just wanted to let each other know that the snow was good for snowballs and be prepared.
Back in the day, we embraced the snow. It was our friend. It provided us an opportunity to do things that we couldn’t do without it. We would build forts. We would go sleigh-riding. We would earn some money by shoveling sidewalks and driveways. Snow was fun for us. And, mind you, no matter how much snow fell, we always had school. These were the days before school buses and snow days and watching morning weather reports to see if school was cancelled.
Snow was never a deterrent. We walked to school in knee-high snow and we loved it. We would throw snowballs at each other all the way down the hill. Or we would select a target and see who could hit it first. We never threw at cars or windows or adults.
So, after the gang stopped throwing snowballs at each other, we decided to build a fort. These were very cool and they would serve as our protection for the next snowball battle.
After lunch — usually grilled cheese and tomato soup — we would grab our sleds and head for the top of Nottingham Street. The first guy down would stop at Second Street and wait as the next guy flew down and went to Shawnee Avenue. Now the third guy would get the best ride — all the way down from Third Street, past Second to Shawnee. That was fun. Then he would stay at Shawnee, as his buddy would walk up to Second Street and the guy at Second Street would walk up to Third Street for his ride down.
This rotation worked. Nobody ever got hit by a car or truck and the ride lasted a couple of exhilarating minutes.
Like I said, we embraced the snow.
While I was back there, I was lucky to see — and hear — the sound of cars on the snowy roads. Many had studded tires and some even had chains on their rear tires. It was all about traction. We were lucky that the street commissioner lived on our street, so it was always plowed. We were not happy when the cinders were spread, curtailing our sledding and sending us off to the Barnes Street park for fun.
And I also got to see the neighborhood sidewalks covered in coal ashes. I remember emptying our coal furnace and putting the ashes in a, yes, ash can, and putting them on our sidewalks. This was how we coped with Mother Nature’s snowstorms.
And it was always good.
Now it was time to get back in the Way Back Machine and head back to 2022 and reality. It was another fun trip, for sure.
And as I lifted off, three snowballs smacked against the side of the WBM.
We all laughed.