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The cold old days
Let it snow! The second snow storm of the fall has hit us hard. Honestly, I don’t remember exactly when the snow fell when I was a kid. I do know we had a green Christmas the year I was eleven and a few winters when the hike across Strathburn Park then the two-block walk to the bus route on Weston Road was an ordeal. This much I have to say, I’m grateful for the huge improvements in winter clothing, from then to now. When I was a kid, “in the good old days”, we wore two-piece snowsuits made of wool with quilted linings. The lining was something lumpy and when it got soggy—and woollen snowsuits got soggy—it was darn near impossible for it to dry out by morning recess. Our classroom smelled like wet dogs from the first snowfall until spring thaw. The school hallway was lined with rubber boots, galoshes, Wellies, damp boot socks and tangles of knitted mittens. The cloakroom’s enormous radiators were draped with damp sweaters, wet socks, scarves and leggings, steaming away like a kettle on the back burner. Our bright red chapped toes and hands paired nicely with dry lips and frostbitten ears. Yep, those were the good old days. Most mornings, on the way to the bus, your snowsuit, boots, scarves, toques and mittens were barely dry from the day before, because in “the good old days” most families didn’t have clothes dryers. The best you could hope for was more radiator time or hanging all the wet stuff on the basement clothesline and maybe a cup of hot cocoa.
Ah, the good old days. I’ll be the first one to step up to the plate and ask, “What was so great about them?” If you wore those ugly brown galoshes over your shoes or your mom lined your Wellies with newspaper, you know what I’m talking about—by the time you got anywhere your shoes, socks and feet were wet and cold. The good old days are were just “old days”. Give me a jacket that goes down to there and keeps me warm in minus 30 degrees and I’m one happy gal. As for the boots, I’m not even mildly interested in harkening back to the days of brown rubber “overshoes”, soaked socks and frozen toes. I want to be warm. If I have to go outside, I don’t want to know how brisk and bracing it is. I’ve never been into “rising damp” coupled with ice crystals on scratchy scarf and toque. Is it any wonder there’s a bunch of us who lived in “the good old days” that are now crippled with arthritis in our hands and feet?
I love my warm, state-of-the-art, winter clothes. I love how lightweight winter jackets are. I love snow pants that don’t weigh 25 pounds. I love having a toque that has a THINSULATE ™ lining. I love being able to go for a walk and not having to worry about frostbite or chilblains. I wouldn’t go back to the “good old days” even if there were a viable offer on the table. I vividly remember waddling home from the bus stop, excited about dumping the heavy, cold, soggy winter woolies and being able to put warm, dry clothes on. Don’t get me wrong, we had a great childhood. Winter was for tobogganing at Pine Point or High Park. Winter was for skating at Strathburn Park and winter was for building snowmen and forts in the yard. But let’s just say I understand why parents got frustrated when winter playtime only lasted an hour. We were too darned chilly and frosty to stay out any longer.
So, here’s to the toasty winter days of the here and now. Here’s to layering and waterproofing and fleece and microfibre. Here’s to boots with insulated, removable liners that aren’t the first section of the morning newspaper. Cheers to the fabric and clothing science. And cheers to hot cocoa, which was just as good in the “good old days” as it is today.
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