The request seemed innocuous at the time, “All I want for Christmas is snow.” It was December of 1976 and the request was made by my older sister Sharon, a freshman at Scripps College, during the weekly Sunday night phone call to our family (then living in Larchmont, New York). Every Sunday night my sister would call collect, my mom or dad would refuse the charges and then call her back on the phone in the hall of her dorm. This particular Sunday was early in December, and my mom wanted to know what Sharon wanted or needed for Christmas.
My older sister, brother and I were all born in Tulsa, Oklahoma — as was my father. Mom was from Sacramento and her California background was like a beacon to which we all eventually gravitated as we have all settled in California as adults. In the interim, we moved from Oklahoma to Pennsylvania and then New York where I was a freshman in high school when Sharon said those fateful words.
We grew up knowing the seasons and the weather each had in store for us from hot, humid summer days, to rain and possibly hail on a spring evening, to crisp, windy autumn days to snow falls so heavy schools were closed. Having spent four months in Southern California and essentially missing autumn and the other seasonal weather changes she was accustomed to, Sharon wanted to feel weather, to see snow and enjoy Christmas as we knew it: cold and white with hot chocolate, sweaters, caps and gloves. She was tired of 80 degrees and sun, something many transplanted Easterners can relate to this time of year — but usually not for long.
As we approached Christmas that year, my older brother Michael was a sophomore in a school about fifteen to twenty miles away and was picked up by a bus every morning. I was at the local public school about two miles away and either walked or rode my bike to school most mornings (in the case of rain my dad would drop me off on his way to the train station). I know, I know, this is the old “I walked two miles to school in the snow each day — uphill both ways” adage. See the image at the top, start at point A (2 South Drive, our home) and travel to point B (Mamaroneck High), distance? Two miles!
My sister arrived home from California a few days before Christmas and we were having unusually good weather, and all we heard from her was, “all I want is snow.” On Christmas Eve my mom’s cousin and family who lived across the Long Island Sound on Long Island came over to celebrate with us and carry on a tradition we had of our families coming together for Thanksgiving and Christmas since we moved to the East in 1970. After dinner, when we were all sitting in the living room opening gifts, playing charades and having fun someone looked out the window and said, “It’s snowing.” Sure enough, big, fat flakes where dropping straight down, beautifully highlighted by the porch lights and street lamps — the kind of snow that sticks and accumulates. My sister was ecstatic! Snow! It snowed all night, and off and on and off and on and off and on. My sister left a few days after New Year’s to get back to school — we stayed in the snow that was still around.
That winter had the most snowfall in the New York region for a few decades. Although the snow season started late, Christmas Eve, it made up for it with longevity. It snowed, and snowed, and snowed. And I walked through it from our return to classes in January through March. My sister got her Christmas wish that year; somehow Santa was able to affect the weather to make it come true. Me? I was given a true story of walking to school each day in two feet of snow for three months, all because “all I want for Christmas is snow.”
Have a very Merry Christmas, but remember when you ask for something and get it… the repercussions may have longer lasting effects on others!
Your thoughts welcome, click here to email me or on “Leave A Comment” below for public response.