Snow kidding - school's out

AUBURN, Maine — Kids who live in a cold-weather states, where a Nor'easter can shut down dozens of communities and send working parents into a frenzy, know all about the benefits of a treasured Snow Day.

Snow Days are unofficial holidays that interrupt the hectic pace of trudging to school and passing in homework that students didn't complete the night before because their dog ate their textbook, the cat feasted on their gerbil and made them so distraught that they couldn't concentrate on algebra, or they got lost in an in-depth conversation about Justin Bieber's hair on Facebook. Snow Days are free get-out-of-school cards that come and go during Maine's harsh winters. Snow Days are cherished by all red-blooded kids who often call up on Mother Nature to deliver them from the clutches of a demanding teacher.

Snow Days give kids a reason to put those pathetic video games away — for a moment — and actually go outside and breath real air. Sure, it's cold out there, but hours of watching television and YouTube turns brains into slush. Racing down a snow-covered hill on skis, a snowboard or a sled at 90 miles per hour is more exhilarating than texting friends to complain about taking out the garbage, shoveling or listening to their parents warning them to clean up their rooms that resemble the inside of a Porta Potties — or they won't be allowed to watch a mind-numbing reality show featuring stupid people doing stupid things to themselves.

Up here in the hinterlands of nowhere, children put themselves on full alert whenever the weatherman mentions snow. Maine kids don't want to hear about snow measured in inches; they want feet of the white stuff, and they want it during the week. Weekend snowstorms take all the fun out of a blizzard and are looked upon as an annoyance by stressed students who are looking for a way out of class — unless you are a skier who eats and sleeps snow and enjoys being up on the mountain in white-out conditions.

For kids from the Boston area, a Snow Day meant open season on MBTA buses or snowball fights that left welts on their skin from a kid who had the arm of a Major League Baseball pitcher and delivered these icy-projectiles at the speed of sound. Rugged kids would manufacture and stockpile snowballs at a blizzard's pace. They would hide behind bushes waiting to ambush an unsuspecting bus transporting worn-out workers. The kids took cover and waited for the perfect moment to strike. A dozen thuds were heard when they peppered the bus with a massive strike of snowballs as stunned and angry passengers shook their fists behind frosty windows — or offered a middle finger to demonstrate their displeasure after we bushwhacked the bus. The kids laughed and congratulated themselves on their marksmanship. The bus driver gave us all dirty looks as he waved his finger and mouthed an obscenity during his inaudible admonition behind the bus's folding doors. When police cruisers started circling the block to round up the usual suspects, we reluctantly moved on to more exciting pursuits like building intricate snow forts or shoveling out the next neighbor for a few bucks  and head to the nearest five-and-dime store to spend our riches — on junk.

For my son and me, white powder means skiing, sledding and throwing snowballs at targets of opportunity. A wave of snowballs slamming into our picture window often draws the ire of my surprised wife. We have the privilege of spending an entire day with a son who enjoys frolicking in the Great Outdoors and still takes great pleasure in pelting his dad with snowballs. A Snow Day means Noah, our next-door neighbor, will knock on the door with his saucer in tow, hoping to use the small hill in our backyard to do some serious coasting and snowboarding before he gets bored and helps me shovel the driveway.

Snow Days are respites for teachers, who also look to Mother Nature to cut them some slack and give them a break from their students. That's why all Snow Days are heralded by adults and children who believe in the rejuvenating powers of these miracle snowstorms — and a day off from the classroom.

Back in the day

If you get lucky, Snow Days can turn into Snow Weeks. It happened nearly 32 years ago when Boston took it on a chin during the Blizzard of '78 on Feb. 6 — a day that will live in infamy for snow-struck Bostonians. This monster storm parked itself off the coast of Massachusetts for 36 hours and delivered about three feet of snow in just over a day, shutting down the Hub and surrounding communities.

That morning forecasters were predicting six to 12 inches as the storm closed in on helpless New England. But something strange was happening when forecasters started upping their snow totals throughout that quiet and cloudy day. I sat in my cellar as whiteout conditions appeared and listened to alarmed weathermen predicting 12 to 18 inches, then 24 to 30 inches. Neighbors stared at each other from their widows and watched as several homes disappeared in snow drifts on my street.

For students at Revere High, it was another Christmas vacation delivered by Old Man Winter. It was the gift that kept on giving for RHS seniors that snowy February. Driving was forbidden and neighbors were forced to help each other as panicked residents made food run after food run, fearing the end of the world was at hand.

The high school was used a Red Cross shelter for beach residents who were forced to evacuate when the abnormally high tides flooded beaches up and down the Massachusetts coastline. The city was patrolled my Massachusetts National guardsmen who carried M-16s to thwart lowlifes who were pillaging abandoned homes near the inundated beach. A tank rolled through streets buried in 15-foot snowdrifts as military helicopters delivering supplies were landing in the middle of Revere.

It was mayhem on a grand scale, but all of us enjoyed every minute of our impromptu and snow-filled vacation. It was white gold and all of us struck it rich when school was called off for days and days.

It was the ultimate Snow Day for students who witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime snow event in New England.