Stacey Mollus

Stacey Mollus

Politeness teaches us to never bring up politics or religion. Those topics are divisive, and more importantly, they are things that people feel so passionately about, a difference of opinion can turn into a huge feud and possibly even ruin a relationship. I think it may be time to add another category to the banned-topics list, and that is the highly explosive subject of snow.

In days past, weather was a benign topic we were encouraged to discuss if we didn’t want to go deep. Now, opinions on frozen precipitation are so strong, I’ve seen face-offs between strangers in the grocery store so intense it was as if they were high-profile attorneys battling to convince a jury of their “truth.”

There is a very distinct line drawn in the proverbial snow when it comes to winter-weather discussions. There are the “Let it snow, let it snow-ers”, or the “I want to punch snow in the face” group.

Before you ask, let’s just get it out there in the open right now. I am a stanch “pro-snower.” If there is a big snow, you can find me standing in a drift with a frozen smile on my red, splotchy face. I am the queen of perfect, plus-sized snow angels, consider snowball fights the equivalent of a pie in the face and not at all combative and regularly join the ranks of those who wear their pajamas inside-out in the hopes their commitment to the old wives’ tale will encourage the clouds to open up and bring a blizzard.

Because of multiple fiery debates, I know not everyone feels the same way. I have seen some on the other side of the “snow” fence take it very personally when the forecast predicts frozen precipitation. It’s as if God is angry at them, and in an attempt to ruin their life he sends snowflakes like some kind of Old Testament icy plague.

People from that same camp are notorious for relocating to southern states so they never again have to see the “dandruff of the sky.” They are the ones who at the first mention of below-freezing temperatures start sending pictures of palm trees, cacti and thermometers with high numbers. They tell stories about how it’s warm where they live and it’s a “dry heat.” They usually end their conversations with maniacal laughter, as if life pulled a practical joke on those of us in the Midwest, and they consider themselves winners in a game of “never-freeze tag.”

Me, on the other mittened hand, have been known to jump into the battle when on the receiving end of one of those conversations. As if I need to protect the reputation of cold weather or I will never see another snowfall as long as I live. My argument includes statements like, “I love a suntan as much as the next southerner, but I also love frosted windows on an ice-cold winter day.” I then begin to ramble about the magic in a snowfall and how catching snowflakes on my tongue is a life skill they will never master. Then I usually end with the proud proclamation, “I love the cold and it’s not uncomfortable to me because it’s a “wet cold.”

Well not anymore. I have come to the realization that arguing about snow is kind of like debating whether you like gravity or not. We have no power to control it, and all of our angry words and frustrations can’t change either one of them. So rather than lose friends this winter season, I’m going to avoid this controversial subject. Instead, I will start conversations about how I like to decorate for Christmas before Thanksgiving. That should be safe, right?

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