JUST SAYING: Winter or Not … here we come!
/By Shelley Wildgen
“If we line ‘em up in the banks, it’ll be amaaaaazing!” So my dear friend Susan said while prying a bedraggled, tinsel strewn tree off of its frozen landing-pad. We were strolling the wintry Belleville streets a week or so after the Christmas of ’72. Susan was a born leader. It was a mild, moonlit night with snow falling and banked as far as our eyes could see … and there were Christmas trees — tossed all willy nilly onto the snowbanks awaiting the next day’s pick-up. We had nothing but time, so five hours later, we had plucked and propped up every tree on Bleecker Avenue from Pine to Dundas and then admired our handiwork under the streetlights. “Magnificent!”
That’s how pre-teen Bellevillians did winter back when winter was winter. We were a couple of creative tweenies; too old to frolic, but too young to drive. Back then, almost every Christmas tree was real and snowbanks lined every street, so enhancing the combination just felt natural. That was a time when snow-packed winter weather never saw a false start or a mid-season thaw.
Another stalwart tradition of winters in Quinte was the Fosters’ Christmas display. Along with the anticipation of the big day, each season would include several Emily Street drive-bys. The Fosters lost their son one Christmas Eve, and to preserve his memory they decorated their front yard with animated decorations that included elves hammering in a workshop and an incongruous whirring helicopter. Mesmerizing! Over 50 years later, the original display has been added to and can be seen, with or without snow, at the Jane Forrester Park in Belleville.
Back in the pre-climate change years, our world spun in accordance with a seasonal plan that could be counted on year after blissful year. Here in the Quinte area we knew for sure that November through March could be solidly devoted to snow and all that came with it. It was a natural, seasonal rhythm that we relished and took for granted.
Oh, it wasn’t all chuckles and chilblains. Along with forts, tree propping and skating rinks that lasted all winter, there was the drudgery of earning a living, day in and out, on those snow-laden streets of Belleville. For me, at ten years old, I scraped by with my paper route. One might think that slogging the streets of east-end Belleville with a big ol’ canvas newspaper bag slung over my head and 27 Toronto Telegrams slapping my spine wouldn’t be anyone’s version of living the dream — but that would be wrong.
Appetite driven, I loved my route for five happy reasons; corner stores. See, there were five of them on my route and on collection day each one featured fresh honey dipped bakery donuts on their front counters. Predictable slushy sidewalks were A-OK because they led me in and out of each corner store where I regularly lightened my coin bag and filled my belly. I also liked the smell of customers’ cooking as their suppers’ roasting goodness hit the frosty air. My wraparound scarf left only eye room on my face and my breath crystallized the material around the mouth and nose area, but nothing stopped those aromas from enticing me to continue my five kilometer tromp.
Snow-pants, bulky scarves and goulashes were worn all winter long because every day was snowy and cold and there was never a shortage of fun to be had. Whether we were hauling our toboggans to Herchimer Hill (before the Pine Street extension) or just sitting on a Queen Street snowbank watching the big kids bumper jump their way downtown, winter was always four solid months of non-stop action.
Every winter was kicked off by the first real snowfall. Not that light, pretty stuff in early November, but the huge dumping that was sure to follow before the end of the same month. Big snow meant big fun. We’d run and skid over frozen puddles all the way to school and hope that the snowplough had arrived before we did, because that meant King Hill would be there.
To a grown up, King Hill might have looked only as a big pile of parking lot snow stashed in a corner of the school grounds, but to the kids at Queen Victoria school it symbolized nothing short of world domination. How it worked wasn’t so different from what we’d experience later in life. The boys would run to the top of the snow-stuffed hill and push each other off until one would declare himself, “King of the Hill.”
And, you may ask, “Where were the girls?” Oh, we were there too, scrambling up the sides trying to find our place at the top only to be shoved back the way we came. Over and over we’d try to get to the top with all hopes dashed before ever reaching the summit. It was recess. It was so much fun.
Most evenings, big and medium kids alike went to the outdoor rink at the Quinte Skating Club. On a good night, we could skate down the street all the way to the rink. The club’s loudspeaker would blare a crackly version of, “Don’t Sleep in the Subway” while couples holding hands circled the rink and the rest of us would practice our backward skating, often careening into their mid-sections.
Winter is somewhat different now, but occasionally, after a warm spell or a blizzard – sometimes in the same day — winter will grace us with outdoor rinks, frozen roads and gargantuan snowbanks.
When they arrive, you know what to do.
