It's a snow day in New England. Huge flakes are floating in the sky and the untouched snow on the ground is glistening like diamonds. Households are beginning to wake up. Shovels and snowblowers become the background noise to an otherwise peaceful scene. A plow just went down our street and created a snow bank five feet high. That's the signal for all of the neighborhood kids to gear up and meet out in the snowy tundra for a day of winter adventure.
Winter adventures in Massachusetts were activities like pond hockey on a frozen cranberry bog or building snow forts as headquarters for legendary snowball fights. But by far the most attention and enthusiasm went to our very own sledding trails. Growing up, we had the steepest hill in the neighborhood. Not great for shoveling the driveway but incredible for sledding. There were two trails to choose from. One was a nice joyride serpentining around trees and ledges, spilling out safely into the snowy street at the bottom of the hill. My siblings and I would get out early in the fresh snow to carefully carve out the trail impression with our sleds. Then we'd build up big snow walls to guide you down the hill. This was great for the casual sledder or caterpillar lines but the other trail wasn't for the faint of heart. It was a straight luge from the top of the hill to the bottom where a huge snow ramp, aided by the plow, would launch you into the stratosphere. Collisions happened. Bail outs were common. There were bad landings, popped inner tubes, tears, you name it. But the worst infraction you could make on the hill was damaging the trail or launch pad. It made it more dangerous for the next rider. A customary turn would begin with a running start at the top of the hill to gain as much momentum as possible. Then leap chest first on to the tube and let it speed you down the hill where you hit the ramp and go soaring. The goal was always to go as far as possible. Some riders had a tough time with the speed. They'd instinctively dig their feet in the snow to slow themselves down inevitably damaging the trail and guaranteeing a lashing from the peanut gallery on top of the hill yelling "keep your feet up!"
On this particular snow day something amazing happened. Something so unforgettable I had to make a puzzle out of it. It started as any other snow day. Kids in the neighborhood were out sledding and playing in the snow while the parents shoveled and looked up only once in a while to count heads. One of our good friends and neighbor, a real person we'll call Leonard for the story, was a younger kid in the neighborhood but always wanted to sled with the big kids. He would wait patiently in line at the top of the hill, excited for his turn. He'd start at the top of the trail, no running start. Place his sled down and awkwardly sit in it while trying to keep steady. Down he'd go, but he wasn't used to the speed so he'd drag his feet to slow down and from the top of the hill you'd hear "keep your feet up!" Undiscouraged, Leonard would journey his way back up the hill, wait his turn, sit first and go again. Each time his feet dragged in the snow. Each time they'd yell "keep you feet up!" You see, Leonard was the perfect size and weight to be shot down the trail like a rocket and every time he gained too much momentum he'd slow himself down or bail out all together never actually reaching the ramp. Meanwhile all of the other kids are going down time after time with ease. Enjoying the ride down and sailing up through the air. They had gotten so good at it they were doing tricks like a corkscrew in the air or landing on your feet and strolling off. Leonard just wanted to reach the jump.
It was getting late in the day but the snow hadn't let up. Most kids were soggy by now and went home where it's warm but not us, not Leonard. He was determined to hit the ramp clean at least once. Each time he went, he'd tense up and bail and have to hear "keep your feet up!" While the crew was fixing the trail after Leonard's last foot drag, the plow went by one last time reenforcing the ramp. One by one the experienced riders flew down, hit the ramp and chuckled at the extra launch. Finally it was Leonard's turn. He was the only one left at the top of the hill, the rest of the kids were at the bottom cheering him on. "Leonard, Leonard, Leonard!" Leonard takes a deep breath, settles his sled and sits down. He hesitates, stands back up, grabs the tube and takes twenty paces backwards, moving out of site from the bottom of the hill. Leonard knows this is his last chance and he's going for it. He sprints forward gripping the plastic handles of the tube, running as fast as he can. He leaps on to the tube chest first slinging him down the trail. "Keep your feet up!" he hears but doesn't need to, his feet are staying high. He gains speed, lots of speed and on target of the ramp. As Leonard approached the ramp he closed his eyes and launched into the air. It was as if time had slowed down and he was in slow motion. We watched Leonard fly over our heads, over the entire street, over the sidewalk and into the neighbors yard across the street. It was the best run of the day and by far the furthest anyone ever went in the air. Everyone tackled Leonard in the snow in celebration chanting "Leonard, Leonard, Leonard!".
A snow day I'll never forget and the inspiration for Winter's Wonders.