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First snow thrills

Desiree Zamora | Tuesday, December 7, 2004

Coming from sunny Orange County and being raised by parents who winced at the thought of temperatures falling below a blissful 70 degrees, I grew up sheltered from a white, oftentimes powdery substance known to people on campus as “snow.”It was an intriguing thing, and looking outside my window back home and trying to imagine my yard covered in it would fail miserably every time. Therefore, once arriving on the Notre Dame campus, I expressed my desire for snow, and received many puzzled, and often frightened looks.My prayers were answered the day before thanksgiving, when my nonexistent study habits were further interrupted by the appearance of odd-looking raindrops. Frantically, I ran to the nearest seasoned Domer, inquired, and received a nod. This resulted in squealing on my part, and even more befuddled looks from my peers.Soon after, my friends realized the only way I could possibly calm down would be to take me out and meet snow for the first time. I was bundled up (you know you are ready when your flexibility becomes impaired), and was led outside. I was allowed to pet it, poke at it, and ask repeatedly, “So this is snow, eh?” Later I was thrown on the ground and ordered to make a snow angel that would make up for all the years of my childhood lived without performing said ritual. After finishing, I was quite proud of myself yet could not explain the presence of two crescent-shaped imprints coming out of where I laid my head. Afterwards, I was introduced to the art of snow rolling, and before long, I pretended I had three large balls of snow, stacked up on top of each other, but later was informed I had a pathetic mound and should just accept my geographical roots and give up.To this day I have not been able to determine if I have calmed down, though my friends have learned to deal with my unhealthy fondness of temperatures below 40 degrees. I have developed few qualms with the substance, mainly with the fact that I was introduced to snow’s inner child, “morning-after slippery sidewalk ice” in the most down-to-earth way possible. Still, I smile at the thought of waking up to a glistening, frosted campus. And I still manage to confuse people because of this. Perhaps I won’t express my joy as vibrantly come late January, for I do grow weary sometimes after hearing some winter horror stories. In the meantime, may you never meet another Californian whose heart is filled with glee at the thought of freezing weather.