Winter, 1969. New York City
A blizzard’s eerie silence overshadowed the distant honking and revving engines from the usual Saturday night car races. I remember my dad‘s contagious laugh echoing through our apartment hallway after he promised to build the biggest snowman our neighbors had ever seen, if I hurried off to bed. He always said New Yorkers thrived on being outside in frigid temperatures and most didn’t mind driving on slick, icy roadways. If I close my eyes I can see snow covered streets and hear enthusiastic voices calling my name. These are a few of my earliest childhood memories that come and go like ghosts of white winters past.
Mom and dad
My mother would politely interrupt dad with her own native New Yorker commentary. “Only a crazy person would drive in this weather—unless they’re on their way to the hospital to have a baby or visit their dying mother. Why would anyone tempt God like that, otherwise?”
My father had a way of melting her heart with his smile. He’d tell a joke, and then let her rave on while they snuggled on the couch to watch Bob Hope or Andy Williams on our new nineteen-inch black and white television.
She’d reach her hands up toward the ceiling and end her rant with something like, “God forbid if our family was stuck out there in the cold. There isn’t a thing we need that we don’t already have right here.” She’d proceed to thank God, His son Jesus, and then added Mary, Joseph, St. Jude, and a few other saints in the mix as a sort of
Child-like prayer
I didn’t get it, but that was my mom. She prayed every day and believed God heard her prayers. She taught my sister and I to pray too—Although I was the rebel who only prayed to God and Jesus. The cherry on top people didn’t matter much to me. I went straight to the boss and His VP, especially when I needed an answer to a special prayer, like; “Dear God, can you please make a mountain of snow tonight so my sissy can stay home from school and build a snowman with me?”
The next morning, I (and a gazillion kids from all five boroughs) screamed with joy when the weatherman announced schools would most likely close for a week.
The importance of sledding, building, and slurping
I remember, after much sledding, snowman building, and hot chocolate slurping, my sister and I often sat by our bedroom radiator after bath time to warm our feet and hands. Once warm and toasty, we moved closer to our picture window to count snowflakes and the few rouge stars peeking out from the clouds at dusk, then t
Music, American History, and. . . fairytales?
A Frank Sinatra or Elvis Presley tune played in the distance, my mother’s humming melded with the sounds of running water and rattling dishes. And yet, I loved this imperfect perfect winter lullaby.
Every night, my father’s rendition of American History stories or my mother’s fairytales unfolded as my sister and I lay snug in our beds. I believe that’s when my story took flight. I dreamt vivid dreams of fantastic worlds covered in fluffy blankets of snow; all the while knowing God was our warmth in the cold.
To this day on frigid January nights, I revisit that house, if only in my mind. It’s such a beautiful part of my story. I piece together the sounds, the sights, and the memories—Now all ghosts of white winters past.
The rollercoaster we call life
When I think back to those days, I feel an unexplainable peace, comfort, and warmth that comes from the love of
What ifs and more memories to come
And now let’s fill in the blanks: W— i- the process of recalling the best of the past can bring healing to the present?
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.
Philippians 4:8 (ESV)
Furthermore, what if we choose to live mindfully, contemplating the things that matter, not only to ourselves but the things that matter to The Giver of every season of our lives?
Might this honesty open our eyes to the real matters of life?
I believe God wants us to let his light shine on our best memories, especially those of ghosts of white winters past.
~ Happy Anniversary in heaven mom and dad.
Dear friends,
Do you have fond memories of white winters past? https://inspireafire.com/the-warmth-of-winter-and-all-its-wonders/ I’d love to hear about it in the Inspire A Fire comments section below. Stop by the quirky Dreamdove’s Flights Of Fancy blog https://joannclaypoole.wordpress.com or FB, Instagram, Pinterest, or Twitter for sharable scripture quotes, stories, writer’s life, and the everyday family la-la-la. 🙂
Joann that is such a beautiful memory
You are blessed to be filled with such love and happy memories
Can you imagine the stories I have to write about you? They’ll all seem like comedies at first, but then . . .
Love, love, love this, Joann! It’s snowing like crazy in Denver, so this is a warm, wonderful story to stir my own white winter memories!! Thank you, my friend! Love you!
Thanks, Janet. Enjoy every minute. I hope to see some snow this weekend.
Beautiful Joann. I remember your parents and I can just see mom hollering about not having to go out in that kind of weather. Your dad was always sweet to me, so I can imagine how he was to his girls.
Living in New York when we did was a different time. Life was so much simpler.
Wish we could go back to the good old days.
Ahhhh . . . Yes, dad was a gem. I’m glad you remember them. We were blessed to enjoy our childhood at that nostalgic time. I agree things are quite different now. I miss the whole gigantic family, the snow, and you too!
That was lovely, Joann. Not having grown-up in the North, I’ve often wondered why you love the cold and snow the way you do. Now I know. It reminds you of those precious years growing up and feeling the warmth of your family. Even though it was bitterly cold outside, what you experienced was the fun of snow-days from school, building snowmen with your dad, and enjoying hot chocolate with your sis. All are rich memories that have developed you into who you are today, a loving wife, actively-involved mother, devoted Numi, and talented gardener. I am blessed to call you neighbor and friend.
Love you, Vickie. Thanks for sharing this story with your friends. I’m glad it gave you some insight to some of my quirkiness ~ I’ll have to tell some stories that reveal the nature lover side of me soon. I’m blessed to call you my most recent mountain garden buddy. Miss you!
Super sensational post a must read story; brings back so many memories of my childhood.
I don’t take it for granted. Looks like we both had a childhood that God blessed beyond measure. Who could ask for more? We had it all. :)))))
I love this story! Made me cry!! Your writing is so beautiful!
Oh, thank you, Rachelle. Now you just made me cry! Writing is so subjective, so anytime we strike a chord with a reader ~ or another writer, it’s a win-win. 🙂
Joanne, this was such fun to read. I, too, grew up in that time, although in the south. We were in Charlotte, NC so when we got a snowstorm it was something else! My favorite image you created was the one of hearing your mom wash the dishes. That one tugged at my heart. Thanks.
Thanks for the warm words of encouragement, Nan. We are kindred spirits! I love your writing, so this comment touches my heart. 🙂
Wonderful story! I love how you made me feel like I was there observing the whole scene.????
Thanks, Connie! I loved recalling and retelling this scene from a beloved chapter of my life. I love your stories too.
Joanne, what beautiful memories reading this inspired. Thank you for sharing. I enjoyed your writing.
Angie, Thanks for taking the time to read this story! My hope was to show a scene of my childhood to inspire more priceless pictures and stories. I’m so glad you enjoyed it. These are the stories that make the writing journey so worth all the blisters along the way. :0
I always love the stories you have with you and your parents. These memories really do show why you love the snow and the mountains the way you do. God has surely blessed you with many wonderful things in your life. The boys and I love you numi.
So happy you read and liked this story, Faith. I’m thankful time can’t erase our favorite memories. We’re blessed with each day to make more! God is good. ????????
My winter memories are filled with sun, warmth and playing in the cul-de-sac in the back yard. My mom would pray for cold enough weather to have a fire in the fireplace. My dad, would turn the air conditioning on cold if it wasn’t and he would burn at least two logs just for mom. I haven’t thought of this memory in years! This past year was the first time we didn’t spend Christmas with my parents. It was weird, but we also spent time making new memories. We often spend too much time dwelling on the negative and bad things that happened in the past, but my husband often reminds me that everyone has a different perspective and to remember the good. What if we spend more time remembering the best? I know it will remind me to give my kid’s lots of good memories to look back on! Thanks for this <3
Aww, so true, Nicole. In the end, the frigid temps, snow, and fun events in winter aren’t what warms our souls through the years (though I thrive on all and love the nostalgic visual). It’s the snapshots of each moment, even if only a handful of happy ones. Those memories. The smile on the faces of the ones we love. They’re the priceless gems I want to always hold dear. 🙂