Frozen Memories

It was a crispy 20° at 5am this morning. I work overnights at a local restaurant and my duties include picking up trash from the lot. It only takes ten to fifteen minutes, but in this blistering cold weather it can feel much longer. Well not to me at least. I was born in and spent the first thirty-five years of my life in Chicago. Cold weather is synonymous with the city and 20° is common during winter. So I was well prepared for the freezing temperature. At this temperature, it only takes thirty minutes to get frost bitten. I had on a coat, gloves, a skully, a hoodie, a long sleeve shirt, and two short sleeve shirts under that. I wore long johns under my thick cotton joggers, with the thickest pair of socks I could find. (They turned out to be some calf length Christmas socks that I have no idea where they came from.) Better safe than sorry. I was pretty comfortable in the cold with all that stuff on. It was perfect for the fifteen minutes it took to finish the job. 

Actually, it was kind of invigorating being out there. It was a total body sensation that I have not felt in the last twelve plus years. I felt a sense of pride standing there in the middle of the parking lot, challenging Mother Nature. She always wins though, because it didn’t take long for the chill to seep through my clothes. It crept into my gloves, frosting my fingertips. It found the tiniest crevices in my shoes and nipped at my toes. However, this experience brought forth memories of my past, living through and conquering temperatures much colder. 

I saw myself in the third grade, covered head to toe in winter clothing, the only thing visible were my eyes and even they burned in the frigid and relentless winter wind. The schools in Chicago don’t close just because it’s cold outside, they would never open if they did. Walking the three blocks to school felt like a trek across the arctic tundra to an eight year old. Not a great experience at the time, but it is certainly a nice memory now. 

I thought about the countless times I had to scrape the icy, frozen windows after forgetting to warm the car up. Back then, I had to start the car thirty minutes before leaving to ensure a warm interior on those dangerous below zero days. No offense to the spoiled residents of The South where I now reside, but you haven’t experienced cold until the boogers in your nose freeze simply by breathing. Crazy things start to happen when the actual outside temperature is below zero.  

I remembered shoveling snow to make money with my little brother. We would knock on doors and ask to shovel walkways and driveways, shovel the sidewalks for store and restaurant owners and dig stuck cars out of densely packed snow banks. That kind of physical activity made the cold easier to bear and being with my brother made it all the better.

Experiences like these can only occur in winter climates. All of my childhood, teenage and early adult years are there. It can be easy to forget them, basking in the pleasant warmth of this southern climate. (I mean I wear tanktops in November for crying out loud.) In this way, I am thankful for the bitter coldness I experienced this morning. It brought to the forefront of my mind the warm memories of the past, making a tough environment cozy and enjoyable.