Death of the Hardy New Englander
By reputation, New Englanders are made of tough stock. We bear the worst Winter can throw at us with barely a second thought.
Snow? Give us all you have and then pile on some more. We’re New Englanders and we know what to do when it snows. We know how to drive and, most importantly, we know how to drive right through the middle of a conga line.
We drag out old couches and broken lawn furniture out into the street to claim our freshly cleared parking space for ourselves.
We laugh at the annual 1/3 inch of snow that paralyzes Atlanta. We love snow so much, we actually make more when we don’t get enough.
We figuratively shake our fists and shout into the sub-zero wind; “Give us your worst, Winter. We can take it.”
Sounds about right, right?
The truth is we’re a bunch of wimps.
We’re not defiantly shouting at the weather, we’re running around like 12 year old school girls – “It’s gonna snow! Oh my God, it’s gonna snooooooooooow!”
A few flakes and we’re dashing out of work early or working from home.
We panic when there’s snow in the forecast. We cancel school based on the forecast not the weather. Remember the recent snowless, snow day?
Our news stations run “Breaking News” storm coverage all day long.
Without fail, the Governor will tell non-emergency state workers to stay home or to go home early. They used to call these workers “non-essential” state workers but I guess that hit a little too close to home.
And, “Put a hat on,” our Mommy-in-Chief will remind us.
When the weather forecasters start salivating about the possibility of snow, every storm sounds like the start of the next ice age. You know they’re serious when the weather guys start wearing flannel on air.
People dash to the grocery store for eggs and milk and to the Redbox for enough DVDs to last out the latest storm of the century.
I submit the Hardy New Englander is a myth. He died during the Blizzard of ’78 and he’s never coming back. The Blizzard of ’78 was a storm worth panicking over – it really was the storm of the century – but how often do those come along? Right, about once every hundred years – not every freakin’ time it snows.
Get over it – we live in New England. It snows. Sometimes it snows a lot. But, we just can’t deal with it anymore.
We’re really just a bunch of Winter wimps.
Filed under: Humor | 3 Comments
Tags: Blizzard, Blizzard of '78, New England, Snow