The Post Where I Whine

When I made my decision, about 14 months ago, to move to Chicago instead of Virginia, I realized that cold, snowy winters were part of the deal. I moved to Chicago on the 20th of December (unless you're reading this and you work for the Illinois Department of Revenue, in which case I moved here on Jan. 1, at around 12:01 am), so I got to experience the entire winter last year. And it was cold, and it was miserable, and there was lots of snow.

I therefore expect this winter to be cold, and snowy, and miserable. That's not my complaint. My complaint is that it has been cold and miserable since around Thanksgiving. (You may recall that I had to leave the State Street parade because I could no longer feel my feet). Contrary to popular rumor, the federal government has not moved the official start-date of winter up to November 22 to counter the effects of global warming (which doesn't exist, anyway, according to the Bushies). Winter still begins on December 22 in the northern hemisphere. (If you need a refresher on why we have seasons, and how that whole revolution/rotation thing works, go to this site.

Despite this, the current temperature in Chicago is about 15 degrees Fahrenheit. There is about 7 inches of snow on the ground -- making this the only time I ever recall having complained about 7 inches. And there isn't going to be a day above freezing this week, or likely the next when - TADAH! - winter begins.

I doubt I'll see the grass again until March. This brings me great sadness. As you may know, I hail from the south. I have never lived so far south that snow was some imagined legend like Santa Claus, alligators in the sewer or Milli Vanilli's career. Instead, we would get a few inches over the entirety of winter that would usually melt/evaporate in a few days, so there was almost always some green visible in the ground cover. The number of times that we received over 6 inches of snow at one time I could count on both hands (actually, probably just one hand). So despite winter having less daylight and being colder, both stimuli that induce depression, the green of the grass always helped keep my spirits up because it was a reminder of the impermanence of the winter cold.

My last year in Raleigh, we had a mother of a snow storm in the middle of January. We got about 10 inches over the course of one Sunday, mostly in the morning and early afternoon. The city came to a stand-still. Raleigh no more knows how to handle 10 inches of snow than Chicago knows how to handle a Category 3 hurricane. Over the next week, I had to trudge my sorry ass to work every single day. I managed a store in the mall, and the mall closed only on the day of the storm. For an entire week, I watched about 15 people walk through the mall because they were sick of being stuck in their houses and had to walk somewhere to avoid cabin fever. Oddly enough, these people were not in a buying mood.

What I remember most vividly about that snowstorm, however, was not the week of chaos that ensued. Instead, I recall that there were about 6 weeks when all one could see covering the ground was snow. The verdant landscape that defied the bleakness of the wintertime had completely submitted to the oppressive power of winter's handmaiden, snow. It was easily the most depressed I've ever been during winter.

Well then, you might be saying, are you in for a bad time this year! Well, not so much. Sure, it's cold, it's going to stay cold and I likely won't see the grass until sometime after the spring thaw. But at least in Chicago, there's a sense of camaraderie about the cold and snow. People get out and shovel the sidewalks so their neighbors might have an easier time walking the streets. Just having to get out and walk through the winter to get to the train is an improvement over my former mode of slinking to the car and praying that the heat will kick in. Having to face the winter more directly makes it seem less oppressive and, yes, less permanent.