...of the Carolina snowfall are slowly disappearing. Puddles have formed in the low spots while the last of the white patches trickle and fade into but a memory. It's the stuff of stories.
The whole event has reminded me of a childhood "snow story", taking me all the way back to about 1978 or so. The upstate of SC had gotten a pretty good snowfall that early January, but despite that Mom and Dad were intent on loading up the burgundy LTD for a trip to Spartanburg to visit the great-grandparents (I had 2 complete sets of greats until I was 8). I was personally very excited, not so much to hang with the old folks that day, but because I had an acquaintance who lived next to Grandma Harris. And who knows what kind of loot he had gotten for Christmas. His name was Timmy.
Timmy was about my age and someone that I occasionally hung out with when visiting Grandma Harris. He was a weird kid with crooked teeth and a bad haircut, but it beat sitting on the living room floor listening to the old folks talk about taxes, arthritis and the downfall of humanity as evidenced by Threes Company. Little did I know as I stepped out of the warmth of Dad's giant car and onto the crunchy white of Grandma's driveway, that on that very day I would make history- as the most insanely accurate snowball thrower that Timmy (or anyone else in Spartanburg, SC) had ever seen. Or ever would again.
To be continued...
1 comment:
How can you leave us in such suspense. I am not buying it, if you were such an accurate snow ball thrower, why didn't June Raines recruit you in College.
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