Super snowbank, too
January 31, 2009 | For several years, a group of friends and I have gotten together for Super Bowl weekend, not because we're such big football fans — we couldn't care less, truthfully — but to have a good time enjoying each other's company. This year we're having the party in Grand Rapids, Michigan, at Bob and Carolyn's new house.
My flight connected in Minneapolis, and it was an ominous harbinger of things to come when I stepped out of the plane into the jetway and a cloud of steam issued from my mouth. It reminded me all too much of returning to Minneapolis in January of 1969 after living in the tropics for three years, arriving without even a long-sleeved shirt to my name. I nearly froze before getting into the terminal. Not to mention walking to the car. Not to mention the next two weeks.
Here in Grand Rapids, everything is covered by a thick blanket of snow, and temperatures in the low double digits enhance one's appreciation of central heating. Yesterday it snowed most of the day — nice dry fluffy flakes with little wind. Angela tried to make a "snowperson" but the snow wouldn't cohere very well; it turned out to be more of a snow gnome than a person.
They say this winter is unusual for the piles of snow piled around. Sure. The house is on the shore of a lake, frozen over and itself covered with snow, and all the snow is quite beautiful — as seen through a picture window while toasting by a fireplace.
So how many Super Bowls does this one make? someone asked at breakfast this morning. As it turns out, this is the 11th (see sidebar). Without a doubt, this is the whitest, coldest one so far.
Last updated on Apr 13, 2018