4 thoughts on “Haga High on Snow

  1. Yeah, yeah, yeah, Bruce. As the ranking curmudeon here, I will say that I read that piece and admired it as well. It was very nicely written. But you know, I grew up primarily in Erie, Pennsylvania, a place that AVERAGES 120 inches of snow a year. I learned how to SKI on the mounds of snow that we used to pile up on the sides of our driveway. Seriously.

    A piece like Chuck’s gets me going about how we Minnesotans tend to portray ourselves in these heroic, romanticized terms. Forty-five inchs on average a year: Bush League. And all the foo-fah about the cold weather, that slimy fish the Norwegians eat, our stoicism and our above-average kids. Please. For the record, I have four of the not-so-little buggers: One is really, really smart, one is definitely average and completely normal, one, my art student, is talented but totally out-to-lunch, and one is somewhere on the border of average and something else — so I can claim a perfectly balanced statistical model. And I don’t try to buffalo people into thinking otherwise, or to waste half a “let’s get caught up” lunch with a litany of “my kids are friggin’ geniuses, and, oh, did I tell you that they’re going to be on American Idol tomorrow and they’re also a finalist on Trump’s ‘You’re Fired’ program?”

    Where was I? Snow. I guess I’m much more about paying attention to things like Tim Pawlenty’s sleigh-of-hand budget proposals, and his red herring of a proposal to provide our kids with free health insurance (Opps! Kidding!) and the fact that Michelle Bachman is an idiot. But I rant. And at best, it’s only an average rant at that.

    And here you were just trying to be nice, which you’re so much better at — above average, I’d say — than I. And did I say that I thought Chuck’s piece was very well-written?

  2. And many of us who brag about how high the snow was and how tough the polar bears were we had to wrestle on our way to school (walking, of course) now evade much of Minnesota’s increasingly wimpy winters as snowbirds in Florida and/or Arizona. Just forward my snow removal bill to Scottsdale, please.

  3. Lurker says:

    We don’t need a snow storm to appreciate the finer elements of snow, as Longfellow did back in his day…

    Out of the bosom of the Air,
    Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
    Over the woodlands brown and bare,
    Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
    Silent, and soft, and slow
    Descends the snow.
    Even as our cloudy fancies take
    Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
    Even as the troubled heart doth make
    In the white countenance confession,
    The troubled sky reveals
    The grief it feels.
    This is the poem of the air,
    Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
    This is the secret of despair.
    Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
    Now whispered and revealed
    To wood and field.

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