Meditative Prose
Tuesday, 26 February 2008
Snowy Grove
Outside the snow is coming down hard, and I am hoping for a snow day tomorrow — some things never change, I guess. I remember as a kid getting up early to watch the ticker of school closings scroll by on the bottom of the TV screen, hoping to see Yough (my school district) closed or at least with a two-hour delay. I was frequently disappointed, and on those days it was like torture to catch the bus, and school seemed even worse than usual — slower somehow, and more like a prison. Interestingly, on days when we had a two-hour delay (not ideal, but I took what I could get) everyone was excited and happy, and the shortened school day seemed to fly by.
What does it say about our school system that kids will get up early to watch the news (of all things), positively aching to stay home from school? What does it say about our society that here I am, twenty-three years old, hoping against hope that I don’t have to go to work tomorrow? I live for brief glimpses at freedom, just like every other working person, just like every kid in school. It will do my heart good if tomorrow nature brings commerce in Burlington to a screeching halt, and everyone except the snow-plow drivers are free, if only for a day. They are calling for fifteen inches, but I hope we get fifty.
