Blogger's Note: Critical Errors is very proud to present our first guest post of our 12 Days of Criticismas. The illustrious Peter Brown of the Internet sensation Kludge Spot blog gives us his review of...snow. The white stuff that falls from the sky. Not this guy. Enjoy!
The Eskimos have over one thousand
words for snow. Did you know that? It's not true. I just made that
number up. I think it's more like twenty or maybe just nine. Okay,
here's the truth; I'm not really positive. You know what? Who cares
how many flipping ways an Eskimo can say ‘snow.' The point is, they
seem to know a thing or two about the white stuff that falls from the
sky and by the end of this, you will too.
This post is brought to you by a
coastal California native who has never lived in an area that snowed.
I've never shoveled snow off my driveway, been in a snowball fight or
ridden a shovel down a snowy embankment in a 1946 Frank Capra film.
Still that might be the reason that it interests me so much.
It seems that in films, Irvin Berlin
hits, T.V. specials or even Lexus car commercials, you cannot have
Christmas without snow. The two just seem to go together.
Hugh Grant Movie:
Awkward boy meets beautiful girl.
They become romantically involved.
They have a misunderstanding regarding
pasta and bus schedules.
She vows to never speak to him again.
He proposes on Christmas Eve.
It begins to snow.
She falls in love.
Lifetime Christmas Special:
Solider leaves to war.
Wife holds it together for the kids for
months.
One night, siblings begin to fight.
Mom begins to cry.
Young Klye bawls, “I miss my Daddy!”
It begins to snow.
Solider walks up the steps.
Therefore as a youngster I logically
concluded that snow had magical properties. What was I suppose to
think? I know as a kid in LA, I would ask my mom about it.
“When will it snow?”
“It doesn't snow here.”
“How can I make a snowman like Calvin
& Hobbes?”
“You can't.”
“What?! How can I have a snowball
fight? Build an igloo, go sledding, have a snow day, go tobogganing,
eat a snow-cone, lick an icicle on a dare, catch snowflakes on my
tongue, make snow angels or have a snow fort?”
“Sorry, no snow. That's one of the
great things about living here.”
“It doesn't feel like Christmas.”
And that was true. LA in December
didn't feel like Christmas to a kid. It was sunny with a side of
smog. Not exactly the NBC expectation of a winter wonderland being
pumped into that little kid brain of mine. Garfield had snow. The
Grinch had snow. Frosty was made of snow, and every movie in New York
City was covered in snow. Why couldn't we get a little in
California?!
Snow is an American symbol of the
promise of Christmas. It is a contract for our happiness. To a child,
a white Christmas isn't just a pretty imagine on a holiday card, it
is a requirement for the fulfillment of dreams. It is Santa's pixie
dust and another year without means that surely you just weren't good
enough.
Fast forward about ten years. I was 16
and my family finally spent a Christmas with snow. We rented a cabin
in Tahoe with our extended family the year my Grandmother passed
away. We needed something different to help us get through what had
been a hard year.
I still recall pulling up to that snow
covered pine lodge in the middle of winter, and being totally amazed.
We had a roaring fire, hot mugs of cider and all of our wet snow
boots lined up against the wall. There was a thick blanket of snow on
the ground, and pine trees with branches draped in all their winter
whiteness. I remember thinking, “This is exactly what Christmas
should looks like!”
I hated it.
I was cold, walking was a pain as I was
always slipping on the ground or losing a boot in the thick pile of
wintry carpet. All my clothes were constantly wet. Driving in it was
miserable if not downright deadly. You couldn't go anywhere without
gloves, and if they came off, then GOOD FREAKING LUCK getting them
back on your numb frozen hands! This was nothing like what I expected
and I was miserable.
I guess that's the real point. Contrary
to the CBS specials, Christmas is not about snow. It's about family,
friends and showing off your cool new set of gaudy winter socks. If
that traditional gathering means a white Christmas to you and yours,
then so be it. But for this Californian, you can keep the cold white
stuff to yourself! I think I like it better on the screen, as an
idea, than actually present in my life.
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