Not Quite Like it Used to Be
January 24, 2014
Foregone Television Viewing
February 21, 2014
This essay was originally published in the local newspaper yesterday. I wrote it for a variety of reasons: 1. Since we’re on the cusp of the Winter Olympics I wanted to look at things from a regional perspective here in Colorado.
2. As a way to get over the disappointment from last weekends Broncos debacle at the Super Bowl.
3. Every time late winter rolls around this becomes one of my strangest memories of the season.
4. I love to write, but you folks already know this.
Word Count: 1047
Stopping Ain’t Gonna
Happen, no way-no how
In some ways society is a lot more cautious these days than it was to back in the 70’s. In others it’s actually more extreme. To illustration it’s rebellious nature all one has to do is look at the wild popularity of individual sports such as half-pipe & slope-style snowboarding & skiing. Are the folks that participate in these things as my grandmother used to refer to certain individuals, “Walking around with a loose screw.” Hopefully not because if these extreme sports were an option back in the 70’s, I definitely would’ve been one of the participants.
Little Silverton is no exception to a more cautious approach. Before the town fathers realized just how dangerous it was to allow it, kids used to be able to sled on both the hill adjacent to the Catholic Church, as well as the one right next to the school.
In a nod to proximity and the prevalence of religion in our lives, kids in town used to refer to these sledding spots as “The Catholic Hill”, and the “The School”, or “Protestant Hill”. To this very day I still wonder why we always liked, “The Catholic Hill” better. Quite possibly it was because sledding on it wasn’t as close to the school? The scene of numerous incidents of intense labor associated with equal amounts of grief and strife during my childhood.
More than likely it was because the sled-ride on “The Catholic Hill” was steeper and therefore infinitely faster. Henceforth I shall refer it as “CH” (for purposes of speed in the writing of this essay and laziness on my part). If you got going from one of the higher spots on CH getting an excitement filled ride down the hill was a total understatement. NASCAR-like speeds during the ride meant stopping at the intersection where 10th meets Reese (let alone also coming to a halt at 10th and Main) was sort of like asking a total couch potato not to touch that bag of chips sitting on the kitchen counter. Ain’t gonna happen, no way-no how.
Right on the cusp of reaching the age of fourteen, (your “Walking through Walls” stage of life), me and a buddy really took it to an extreme. I refer to this as the “Walking Through Walls” period since at a young age very often you think you can saunter through most barriers without getting hurt.
Basically what the two of us did is decide to do some CH sledding on a crystal clear, bone chillingly cold night. This would guarantee that the CH surface was fast. One or two degrees closer to being a total sheet of ice in fact. Visions of impersonating a Winter Olympic Luge athlete floating freely through our heads.
We of course put on every piece of cold weather clothing in our possession, and then waxed the runners of our sleds in total anticipation of gaining that little extra speed. Tricked our respective parental units by telling each of them that we were hanging out at one another’s house. Doing what kids do best-playing, playing all right.
Our objective was simple; make it to the bottom of the hill in one piece without crashing (an achievement in and of itself). Maintain similar maximum speeds to the ones we’d just obtained while riding down the hill. Scream through both intersections (of course..), and ultimately milk the ride for all it was worth until one or both of us had ridden the sled all the way to the train station at the end of 10th street.
I’m proud to say that here we are forty-one years later and my biggest memory of that night’s stealth sled ride is both of us having pushed our sleds to within a half block of the depot.
We didn’t quite make it the entire distance, but got so close that it was major effort on my part maintaining a cool demeanor. Who cared that it was -20 degrees F., sure didn’t feel that cold. When I got back to the house keeping things “hush-hush” by acting indifferent wasn’t all that easy. Sort of solved that dilemma by telling my mom and sisters I was excited because the next day in seventh grade science I’d be presenting my essay about gravitational effects on airplane flight (yeah right..).
My enthusiasm at reaching such a monumental distance was soon tempered. The following Sunday dad took all five of us sledding. Unlike the Siberian ride of two nights previous, it was sunny with the first hints of spring in the air. Fortunately CH was still icy and rock hard. Lighting fast too, which totally ensured a fast ride down the hill. Then it happened.
Wanting to add a little extra weight to his ride, Dad set my baby sister in his lap as he climbed onto the sled and took off from one of the highest spots on the hill. I could already tell as they rocked down CH that the two of them were having a sled ride for the ages. They blasted through the intersection of 10thand Reese, and kept up the speed all the way to main. It almost seemed as if they were getting faster now that they were on flat ground. Is that possible?
If there were any flies buzzing through the air on that cold January day they would’ve had free, unencumbered access to the back of my mouth. When Dad and my sister hit Greene Street what should my father do but crank the sled’s steering mechanism-which forced them to make a 90 degree turn to the right and onto Main. Then he milked their momentum for all it was worth and proceeded to ride all the way down to the south end of town on their sled. Basically made my bullet journey of two nights previous look like an amusement park ride for pre-school toddlers. ‘Devastated” is putting it mildly for how I felt at that particular moment.
Why do humbling moments such as these happen to us throughout our lives? Maybe it’s to put the majority of humanity back in their place? Knowing that my sled ride earlier in the week wasn’t all that special sure did the trick for me.
