By Sarah Frick, President
Before you say, we’re in Maine, this is a “Maine Winter.” I am going to let you know I am from Connecticut, so therefore I have a license to be appalled by a “Maine Winter.” Just to clarify what my life has been, I made the grave error of walking to the gym the other morning. As I walked past the towering dunes of snow, I realized my vision was going blurry, that I was unaware if my face was still there or if it had decided to go to Hawaii without me. I considered turning around, but was inspired by anyone who has ever made it to the top of Mount Everest to continue my journey.
The sheer fact that I had to take strength from climbers who typically lose noses and limbs to frostbite just to get across campus, alarmed me. Where in my life did this sudden distaste for winter come from? Perhaps the hours I have been spending unearthing my car from a constantly regenerating ice tomb have had some effect. I began to think that maybe, this is my fate to just hate winter.
Then, suddenly it happened, the near death experience I needed. I was walking across 2 inches of slippery brown gray snow sludge, when I was reminded of two things. The first being that despite my father’s insistence that Bean Boots have virtually no traction, I still went ahead and bought them. My second thought was about that one episode of Gilmore Girls, where all Lorelei talks about is how snow is an otherworldly magical power that needs to be, above all, appreciated.
I decided then, mid-faceplant, that I really had to start thinking about what makes snow so “magical”, or else I would most definitely become a crotchety snow bird at a very young age. Luckily, I had many snow days, surrounded by friends, to ponder my impending fate. After meals of Easy Mac and dorm cooked bacon, never-ending card games, many hours of shoveling, and a lot of Mario Kart I realized something. That the magic of snow is not so much what it is, but what it does. Snow forces you to stop and to spend time with people you love, and remember why you love them. So if you start feeling the winter blues, or start to lose feeling in your face, remember you are never alone in this tundra. To quote the great Zac Efron, “We’re all in this together.”