November 26: Very Cold, First Winter Snowstorm, Wampa

Five figures wandered slowly over the blighted land.  Bits of it were dullish gray, bits of it dullish brown, the rest of it rather less interesting to look at.  It was like a dried-out marsh, now barren of all vegetation and covered with a layer of dust about an inch thick.  It was very cold.

That is Douglas Adams' description of the surface of the planet Magrathea near the end of Hitchhiker's.  If you add some snow to that, maybe the whine of snowmobiles in the distance, you would also have a perfect description of winter in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

Sitting at my kitchen table right now, in between getting home and going to bed.  I am bracing for the first major storm of winter to hit my little neck of the U.P. tonight into tomorrow.  I've heard predictions of anywhere between eight to 24 inches of snow.  Regardless of how much falls, it's going to pretty much suck for getting to work tomorrow morning.

The first storm of winter always fills me with dread.  I dislike having to brave U. P. roads and highways at 5:30 in the morning.  I'm a good winter driver, but plowing through snowdrifts that early in my Subaru is a little nerve-wracking.  I've gotten stuck on more than one occasion.  A few winters ago, I was driving in a blizzard, hit a whiteout, and ended up on the opposite side of the highway, saved by some guardrails from driving into a lake. 

Of course, being a Yooper, I'm supposed to love winter.  Cross country skiing.  Downhill skiing.  Sledding.  Snowshoeing.  Snowmobiling.  If I had more testosterone in my system, I'd probably be into all of those things.  Instead, when I have free time, I sit down and write or read or sleep.  (As you know, I don't get much free time.)  My outdoor exercise is shoveling during the winter.  A lot.  I don't own skis or snowshoes, and I haven't been on a snowmobile in about 20 years. 

My eleven-year-old son is ecstatic over the possibility of having school called off because of snow.  I used to love winter storms for the very same reason, but that love sort of died when I became an adult and had to actually move all the snow that fell.  Now, the prospect of any kind of wintry precipitation makes my body ache preemptively.  I have to be at work whether it's 90 degrees or -25 degrees, raining or sleeting or snowing, tornado or blizzard.  I've pretty much driven through all of those conditions, I think.

I broke down a few years ago and found a guy to plow for me.  I just couldn't face getting up two hours early to shovel BEFORE I had to drive into work, and then coming home and having to shovel again AFTER I'd worked for ten or 11 hours.  Thus, winter storms have also become really expensive.  Another reason why my love of snow has diminished considerably.

So, this is my annual beginning-of-winter rant.  Expect a few more posts like this as the white stuff accumulates enough to cover my kitchen windows.  From about the beginning of January until around the middle of March this past year, I felt as though I was living on the ice planet Hoth.  (For non-Star Wars fans, look it up.)  I think, at one point last February, I actually saw a Wampa trudge through my backyard.  (Again, non-Star Wars fans, do your homework.)

Tomorrow night at this time, I will more than likely be living in the middle of a Christmas snow globe.  And I will try to be happy about it.  My other option is hating my life for the next six months.  Hmmm, snow globe or self-loathing. . .

Saint Marty will sleep on it.

October 28: Very Cold, Halloween Snow, Aubri

Five figures wandered slowly over the blighted land.  Bits of it were dullish gray, bits of it dullish brown, the rest of it rather less interesting to look at.  It was like a dried-out marsh, now barren of all vegetation and covered with a layer of dust about an inch thick.  It was very cold.

That is a description of the surface of the planet of Magrathea from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.  It could also be a description of what I will wake up to tomorrow.  There is a winter weather advisory in effect for my little corner of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for this evening.  Two to four inches of the white stuff.  Now, having lived in the U. P. for most of my life, except for a brief stint in Kalamazoo, I shouldn't be surprised by this forecast.  In fact, I should expect it.

However, just as I was unwilling to let go of summer a little while ago, I'm finding it very difficult to relinquish my grip on autumn, especially right before Halloween.  In my youth, Halloweens were generally warm.  I recall very few All Hallow's Eves where I was bundled up in my winter coat to go trick-or-treating.  The last warm Halloween I can recall occurred about 11 years ago, when my son was newly born.  That year, I wore a full gorilla costume to go trick-or-treating with him, and I nearly died of heat stroke.  It was a very warm night.  Ever since then, Halloween has been the unofficial start of winter.

Of course, I have no control over the weather, just as I have no control over a lot of things in my life.  God has been very diligent in reminding of this fact.  Frequently.  I like to think that I run my own life, that I can decide whether I'm happy or sad, successful or a failure.  In short, I've been trying to play God for quite a long time.  I believed that I controlled the weather in my life, from Halloween to Christmas to Independence Day.

This morning, my niece, Aubri, got on an airplane and flew off to San Francisco to start a new job and a new life.  Aubri is one of my favorite people in the whole world.  She's funny and smart, and she shares my sense of humor.  At family gatherings, we frequently found ourselves seated beside each other, sharing inside jokes and mean girl comments.  Aubri can always make me laugh, even on the darkest of days.

Saying goodbye to Aubri this weekend was like accepting a forecast of snow for Halloween.  I knew it was coming.  I was expecting it.  Yet, when it finally happened, I found myself saying, "It's too soon.  Too soon."  This is one of those life things that I have no control over.  Snow is inevitable.  Young people growing up and leaving is inevitable.  Goodbyes are inevitable.

Join me in wishing my niece, Aubri Cheryl--beautiful girl, ray of sunlight, fellow mean girl--Godspeed.  When I wake up to snow on my car tomorrow morning, I will think of her and all the joy she has brought into my house.  And I will smile, knowing that God has bigger plans for her than I can even imagine.

This Saint Marty knows for sure.