Inlet Common School: Once recess arrives, it’s all downhill

Back in 1974, a simple blue sheet of plastic with a rope handle became the world class means of speedy transportation down a snow covered hill.

Most of the kids at the Inlet School had one at the time, and they were used frequently to tackle the steep hill in the back of our red and white school house.

There wasn’t one of us who would come to school in mid-February without one rolled up and shoved under our arms.

However, the mere act of rolling one up on a cold morning could cause a 10-year-old kid enough frustration to mutter a barrage of newly-discovered curse words under his breath.

That was me, as I stood in the opening of our garage door fighting to roll the thick blue material into a tube-like configuration.

It was hard to get a grip on the sled with my mittened hands.

And the fact that I had spent the night before rubbing its bottom with two old candles to assure increased speed certainly did not help.

I finally flopped to my knees and spread myself out to pin the thing to the garage floor. I tied it off with some bailing twine just as the school bus pulled into the yard.

I took a seat and dropped the toboggan upright on the floor. It made a weird gong-like sound that I thought was so cool that I was inspired to drop it again.

The glare I received from the bus driver gave me an indication that he wasn’t as impressed with the noise as I was.

I was happy to get to school and anxious to try out my sled’s new wax job.

But prior to recess I had to wade through Math and English lessons.

My thoughts were not tuned into the long division assignment.

Rather, as time creeped along I was more consumed by the new three to four inches of snow that had fallen.

And all I wanted to do was break trail.

When it was finally recess time, a group of twenty crazed students scurried to the school foyer in Keystone Cops fashion to gather their winter snow gear.

We ran out the door and headed towards the hill.

I fiddled to loosen the knots of the twine around the toboggan but they seemed to have a permanent grip on it.

In a desperate attempt to free it, I chewed through the strings with my teeth.

The sled flung open into its almost perfectly flat shape.

I stood at the top of the hill for a moment looking for just the right spot where I would get the most speed.

Once I spied a location off to the side, I took a couple charging steps and hurled myself chest-first on the sled. I was off with a thump and a whoosh.

Snow was forced down my neck as I swiftly descended the hill.

It was obvious that new application of wax had given me the results I was hoping for.

Once I reached the bottom of the hill, I rolled over and laid on my back in the new snow for a bit, thinking how much more enjoyable the activity was than long division.

Mitch Lee, Adirondack native & storyteller,  lives at Big Moose Lake. ltmitch3rdny@aol.com