A Winter's (Tall) Tale

On a cold, blustery March afternoon, I was babysitting my six-year old grandson who was staring out the front window with a bored look on his face.

“Let’s go for a walk,” I suggested.

“No, Grampa.  It’s too cold!  I really wish winter was over.”  He flopped down on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling.

“Winter is over, young man.  Yesterday was the first day of spring,” I observed.

“Well, it still feels like winter, Grampa.  And it’s lasting too long.  When’s it going to get warm?  I want to go swimming.”

“See here, grandson.  This is just a typical March day.  And this year’s winter was hardly fit to be called a winter.  Let me tell you boy, when I was young, we had some real winters – not like the wimpy ones we’ve had since you were born.”

“Tell me about them, Grampa.”

“Well, let me think for a minute.  Oh yeah.  I remember the winter of 1972.  Now that was a real doozy – a winter to beat all winters.”

“What was it like?”

“Well, if I remember correctly, the snow started falling around Thanksgiving and it didn’t let up until Easter Sunday.  I was in college at the time.  It snowed so much that it piled up past the third floor window of my dormitory.”

“Wow!”

“Yes sir, young man.  With that much snow you’d think they would have cancelled classes, but they didn’t.  So we made tunnels through the snow, and they connected all the buildings on campus.  Then we’d strap on skis and go whooshing through those tunnels to wherever we needed to go.”

“Really?!”

“You better believe it.  In college you’ve got to pay for classes, so we didn’t want to miss any.  In fact, we built a second layer of tunnels on top of the first in order to get to classes that were on the second floor.  Those tunnels were reserved for sleds and toboggans.  If you had a class on the third floor, you had to put on snow shoes so you could walk on top of that huge accumulation of white stuff.”

“Was it cold like it is today?” my grandson asked looking back out the window.

“Hrumph.  My boy, you can’t be serious.  As cold as it is today, it can’t come close to how cold it was back then.  I’ll tell you, the temperature never got above zero that whole winter.  It was so cold that when you talked to anyone outside, the steam coming out of your mouth would freeze into a bubble, and the words you were speaking would be captured inside it.  You’d actually have to read what the person was saying to you, just like you were reading a comic book.”

The young boy turned to face me.  “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true,” I said looking right at him.  “And one day it was so cold that the air froze completely solid.  When you opened the door and tried to step outside, you walked into a frozen wall of air and couldn’t get beyond the front door.”

“I think you’re kidding me now,” he looked a tad unsure.

“No, seriously,” I countered.  “And anyone that got caught outside when it happened was unable to move.”  I stood up, took a step and froze to demonstrate.  “I suppose those folks were just held motionless, like fish when a pond freezes solid.  I also remember distinctly that it happened at night, and the moon got stuck where it was in the heavens until it warmed up enough for the air to thaw.”

“So what did everyone do?”

“Well, when it happened they actually had to cancel classes because no one could get out of the buildings where they were living.  And having no classes gave us the perfect excuse to have a huge party.”

“With cake and ice cream?”

“That would have been an excellent idea, but it was so unexpected that we didn’t have a chance to plan it out and get to the store for party supplies.  We went around the dorm to see what everyone was willing to contribute to the party and came up with a bunch of those big, two-liter bottles of soda.  We had ginger ale, orange and cherry soda and root beer.  Unfortunately, the bottles had all been opened, so they’d all gone flat.  Besides that, they were warm because we weren’t allowed to have refrigerators in our rooms back then.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very fun party, Grampa.” 

You’re right about that.  Yes, it was going to be a pretty sad excuse for a party with nothing to drink but warm, flat soda.  But luckily, one of the guys down the hall happened to have a tool box.  He had the bright idea of using a hammer and chisel to break off a few chunks of the frozen air outside to cool our drinks.  I’ll tell you, those drinks turned out to be colder than you can imagine.  And when those air cubes melted, they put the fizz right back in that flat soda!  Yes sir, it turned out to be a great party until the air unfroze and we all had to go back to class.”

“Did it get warm?

”

“Eventually, it warmed up and all the snow melted.  And you know what happens when snow melts?”

“What, Grampa?”

“Why it turns to water, of course.  And all that snow made enough water to flood the whole campus.  So instead of skiing through tunnels of snow, we water skied from our dorms to class.  The college was very cooperative and replaced their shuttle buses with motor boats for the rest of that school year.  They even bought an old steamboat and turned that into the cafeteria.”

Just then the front door opened.

“Grandma!” our grandson reached up to her for a hug.

My wife hugged the boy and turned to me with a wink.  “So what mischief are you two scoundrels up to?” she asked.

“Grampa was telling me about the steamboat cafeteria at his college.”

“Actually, we were just getting our coats so we could go out and enjoy this beautiful spring day. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

“Sure, Grampa - because it’s only a little bit cold outside – nowhere near as cold as it used to be when you were young.  I wish I could have seen those air cubes and the word balloons like you did when you were in college.”

“Air cubes?  Word balloons?  What kind of stories have you been filling this boy’s head with?” my wife put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at me. 

“Never you mind,” I replied.  “The boy and I were just talking about the weather.  Nothing more than that,” I said grabbing my coat and pushing my grandson out the door.  “We’ll be back in a while.  Give my cell phone a ring when it’s time for dinner, honeybunch.”  I waved to my wife as I stepped outside and closed the door behind us.

The Letter - Chapter 5

I finished filling the large pasta pot with water, added a little salt and placed it on the stove.  I turned the burner to high and went back to the pile of mail on the table.  I leafed through each item again, more carefully, looking for a flash of lavender.  It’s not here.  Damn!  I flipped through the paper one more time.  What do they say is a sure sign of insanity?  Doing something over and over and expecting a different result?  But I swear I left it here on the table.  Let me think.  I made tea and sat down to read it.  I had just started reading it when the phone rang.  I got up to answer the phone.  Now did I leave the letter on the table or carry it with me to the phone? 

I walked to the phone in the study and looked around my desk.  I picked up the bills I’d been paying and sifted through them, knowing full well that if it were here, it would most likely be on top of everything else. 

OK, so Bob told me about his car problem and asked me to rescue him.  Maybe I subconsciously stuck it in one of the desk drawers.  I opened each drawer and riffled through the contents hoping I had stuck it in one of them – maybe to keep it away from my teenage daughter’s prying eyes.  No, I didn’t see it in any of them.  I looked around the floor under the desk.  Nothing.

What did I do next?  I went to the closet to get my coat and hat.  Then I picked up my keys from the table by the front door.  No, they weren’t there, and I spent some time walking through the house looking for them.  God, I was all over the place!  And then I found them on the floor under the table and left.  No, that’s not right.  I decided to take my book to read in case we had a long wait and ran out of things to talk about.  I walked to the living room and started to look around the coffee table where my book had been.  Not there either.  I went back to the closet and checked the pockets of my coat. Just my gloves.  I picked up the book and fanned the pages.  Not there.  Could I have taken it to the car?  I picked up my keys and walked outside to check.  As I was rooting around the front seat, I heard Jennifer’s voice from the front door

.

“Dad, is everything OK?  The water’s boiling like crazy.”

“Oh, sorry Jen.  I thought I’d forgotten something in the car.”

“Come in.  You don’t even have your coat on and it’s freezing out there.  Did you find it?”

“No, but don’t worry.  It’s no big deal.”

I locked the car and went back into the house.  Jennifer looked hungry.

“Sorry for the delay.  You know the saying, ‘A watched pot never boils.’  So I figured it would boil faster if I ignored it.  Ha Ha.  Anyway, I’ll get the pasta right in.  Is linguini OK?” I asked.

“Sure, Dad.  Can I get the salad going?  My homework is practically done, and I really am hungry.”

“OK, honey.  Go ahead.”

Jennifer pulled the lettuce out of the refrigerator and start tearing leaves into a salad bowl.  

“So I heard you walking around down here,” she said.  “Were you looking for something?”

“Don’t worry about it.  It’s a letter I got today.  I started reading it, but then Uncle Bob called, and I don’t remember where I put it when I left to meet him.  I’m sure it will turn up.”

“Yeah, sure, Dad.  It’s got to be somewhere.”

“Well, dinner’s ready," I said.  "Let’s eat.”

The Letter - Chapter 4

I unlocked the front door and hurried into the house, stomping my feet.  God, it’s cold out there today!

“Da-ad!  I’m home!  Hello-oh!  Anybody home?”  No answer.  He must have stepped out.  I dropped my backpack, stuffed my hat and gloves in my coat pockets and hung up my coat in the hall closet.  I walked into the kitchen to see if my dad had left a note.  He hadn’t.  No note, no text, no phone call.  I’ll give the old man some flak about that.  He’s always telling me, “I just want to know you’re safe.  It’s courtesy, not control that I ask you to let me know where you are.”

Well, he’s going to hear something from me about courtesy though I have to admit he’s pretty good about letting me know when he’s going to be out.  He must have left in a hurry.

“What’s this?” I said to the empty house.  There was a lavender envelope on top of the stack of mail on the table.  I picked it up.  It was addressed to Dad.  Hmm.  Looks like a woman’s handwriting.  There were folded sheets of lavender stationery under the envelope.  I picked up the stationery and unfolded it.

Dear George,

You may be surprised to be hearing from me after all these years. 

Ooh, this could be juicy.  I slid the letter and envelope into my math book, grabbed a diet cola from the refrigerator and walked upstairs to my bedroom.  I sat down on my bed and pulled out the letter to see who was writing love letters to my father.  I quickly flipped to the last page.

“Fondly,” and no signature.  That really stinks.  Who would write a letter on lavender stationery, in

red ink no less, and then choose not to sign it.  It was definitely a woman.  Lavender stationery, “fondly.”  Yes, definitely a woman.  I sniffed the paper.  A hint of something.  I know that scent, what is it?  God, that’s Wind Song!  That’s what Mom used to wear when I was little.  Sometimes she’d dab a little behind my ears.

For a split second, I thought this might be from Mom.  Maybe she regretted running off with that jerk.  No, it wasn’t her handwriting.

 

“Jennifer!  I’m home.  Where are you?”  My dad had come in the front door.

“In my room, Dad!  Be right down!”

Oh my God, the letter.  What the heck should I do with it?  Dad will have a fit if he finds out I’ve been reading his personal mail.  I panicked and slipped it under the mattress on my bed.  I bounded down the stairs and gave my dad a big hug.  

“Where were you?”

“Your Uncle Bob had a car problem, and called to ask me to help him out.  Sorry not to leave a note, but I left in a hurry because he sounded so desperate.”

“You have a cell phone, Dad.  You should have texted me.”

“Yeah, sorry.  I actually thought about texting you, but I was driving at the time.  Then, when I caught up with Bob, I guess it just slipped my mind.  You know I’m a Luddite when it comes to cell phones.”

“You are.  You refuse to get a smart phone.  I’m surprised that your old flip phone still works.”

“Hey, I use it the way a phone is supposed to be used.  It works fine to talk to people.  Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t let you know where I was.”

“Is everything O.K. with Uncle Bob?” I asked as I followed my dad into the kitchen.

“It will be.  We hoped it was just a dead battery, but the guy from Triple A tried jumping it and couldn’t get it started.  So they towed it to a garage where we proceeded to sit for a couple hours only to be told they needed a part.  He won’t find out until tomorrow how long it will be until it’s repaired.”

My dad glanced at the pile of mail on the table, but didn’t say anything about the missing letter.

“So what’s for dinner?” I asked.

“I didn’t have time to pull anything out of the freezer.  How about I boil some pasta and open up a jar of sauce?”

“Sure, I’ll make a salad.”

“No, you go up and do your homework.  I’ve got dinner under control.  Everything will be ready in half an hour.”

He picked up the pile of mail and riffled through it before laying it back on the table.

“Now, scoot!  I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”  He started filling a pot with water.