By Mitch Lee
That second week of March in 1974 was the first time I had really felt the warmth of the sun since mid-October.
Though the snow on the ground was still three feet deep the sun had reduced to small crunchy pellets.
It was the best kind of snow for making snowballs…and every kid at school knew it.
We were not allowed to throw snowballs on the school grounds but there were a few occasions when we made good use of the perfect packing snow.
The real snowball war of 1974 started one afternoon at Fern Park on South Shore Road where we all met to play football in the snow.
We divided ourselves into two opposing squads but found the snow to be too deep to run through.
When an impromptu snowball fight ensued we decided to keep some sort of order in the game by following rules similar to Capture the Flag.
The crusty snow really stung when it hit open skin. Though it wasn’t our intent to hurt one another, almost all of us were forced out of the game for a few minutes after being whacked by a pelted snowball.
The afternoon was filled with fun and laughter and I think we tossed enough snow around to fill a good-sized parking lot.
I stopped several times to pour snow out of my boots where it had crept in and burned my ankles.
My mittens and hat were so soaked I could not keep them on any longer.
The game halted when we were all too tired to move. We all just sat against a snow bank, eating snow and sharing stories.
Though my feet were stinging and my eyes were sore from the glare of the late afternoon sun, it was hard to leave when my mother pulled up to take me home.
Soon the snow would start its retreat and form rushing streams around my house that could be explored for months to come.
It would be another year before the snow would be ready to toss again.
Mitch Lee, Adirondack native & storyteller,
lives at Inlet. ltmitch3rdny@aol.com