As a child everyone would agree that there is nothing more exciting than a snow day.

The truth is growing up I don’t remember many of them. Perhaps in those days we were heartier, and, regardless of the weather, we were expected to forge on. But now and then, during blizzard conditions, school would be suspended.

Of course, we didn’t learn any of this from television. In those days the television went off at midnight (after they played the national anthem) and resumed the next morning at 6:00 AM.

We became aware of all the news (faster than the head lice which occasionally plagued our neighborhood) by telephone. Gossip spread quickly because most of us were part of a party line.

A party line meant you shared your telephone with two other neighbors. We each had a different ring, but it was not unusual to pick up the phone, while someone else was speaking. Of course, you were not supposed to listen in, but when the snow was blowing and the wind was blustery, everyone wanted to hear the latest updates.

An entire day off? To do exactly what we pleased?

First there was television. Most of it was not geared to school age children, for obvious reasons. Still I loved the Homemaker’s Movie, like A Summer’s Place, Picnic or Born Yesterday. My mother was not too keen on us watching adult fare (was that what she did while she dusted and vacuumed) so the channel was switched (we only got three channels) to Westerns, like The Lone Ranger, Sky King or Death Valley Days. Then there were the situation comedies, which we were permitted to watch, I Love Lucy, Our Miss Brooks, The Life of Riley.

And every fifteen minutes, the newscasters would break in to give us an update on the weather. It didn’t matter if it was still snowing up a storm, between twelve and one o’clock, we had to vacate the house.

Because this was the time, my mother would watch her soap operas. From 12:00 to 12:15, Love of Life came on and my mother would be glued to the television set as she followed Van, suffering from her martial woes. The next fifteen minutes Search for Tomorrow aired (a lot of drama took place in fifteen minutes) and then at 12:30 my mother watched The Guiding Light, which played for a half an hour, a program she first followed on radio. (Years later I myself got hooked on The Guiding Light and even begged my son to be quiet while I followed the convoluted plots).

So at noon we bundled up, all five of us, head to toe, rubber boots, woolen scarves and mittens and with our little dog, Patches, (which we bought at the five and dime for five dollars) we headed for the hills, dragging our one wooden sled. All the neighborhood kids were there and, when we weren’t sledding, we were throwing snowballs.

The hills, which we thought steep at the time, seemed daunting. We would take turns with the sled, holding Patches in our arms. She would eventually fall off, as we did also, the sleet feeling like icy needles on our face, and our hands numb with the cold. We didn’t last more than an hour or two, and then we would trudge home and make a half hearted attempt to build a snowman in our front yard. It was always a sad creature, lopsided and unadorned.

We pounded on the door to come in, wiped poor Patches off, got into our robes and slippers. My mother always made us grilled cheddar cheese sandwiches and tomato soup (probably all she had in the house, not planning to serve us lunch). So welcome because we were starving and it wasn’t cafeteria food. And then a little sweet afterwards, a Debbie Snack Cake.

Exhausted from the fresh air, we retreated to our bedrooms (which we shared, of course) to read our library books and for me it was anything by Daphne du Maurier, My Cousin Rachel, or my favorite Rebecca. (Such a favorite I even named my son after the main character, Maximilian de Winter.)

We would listen to our 45 RPM records, Connie Francis, Frank Sinatra, Pat Boone, while snow blew outside our window, thankful all of our homework had been done the night before.

Things have changed, of course. I would never let my son go sledding alone and my little dog was never off a leash, let alone held on a sled (what were we thinking?).  Still even as a teacher, I would wait anxiously for the text, which said that school had been canceled.

So what is about a snow day that thrills children and adults as well?

Life moves along so swiftly and we are often overwhelmed with tasks that are not always enjoyable, and, in some cases, not even necessary. A snow day is like a STOP sign, giving us reason to pause without feeling any guilt, permission to hang out with our kids, who are growing up too fast, to make a phone call to a friend, we haven’t spoken to in weeks, to finish reading that novel, or watch that murder mystery which has been on our DVR for months. Or maybe just to stay in our pajamas and linger over a second cup of coffee. Or to do nothing at all.

Make no mistake. These moments are as magical as the snowflakes which silently blanket the ground.         

Image via Wikimedia Commons: Glenn from West Virginia, USA [CC BY-SA 2.0