Big Bear Snow, Holly Lake Humidity

Early one Saturday morning in early January ’83, after a week of Los Angeles rain, we packed the van with tube socks and pieces of cardboard.  For two hours, we played “I spy.”  We used colors instead of letters because Jake couldn’t spell yet.  Before each turn, we peered out the windows for snow, hoping to say, “I spy something with white!”

Not long after we spied the snow, dad turned the van to climb the mountain, Big Bear.  The splotches of snow grew thicker, closer together.  Cars parked along the sides of the road with happy looking kids sliding down on sleds, snow-blasters, and toboggans.  And still the van climbed.

We drove into a mountain resort town and by a Circle K, the snow now piled feet deep on each side side of the road.

And finally, dad turned into the cabin and stopped the van.  Grandma’s cabin.  We stepped out of the van and into the snow.  We pulled out the cardboard, pulled the tube socks onto our hands, and walked up the hill next to the cabin.  Four or five kids were on the hill with their sleds.

Ready to go build a snowman!

I made it to the top of the hill first and laid down the cardboard.  I jumped on it and sped down the hill, feeling the speed and cold and wind and grin on my face.  And I remembered how much I loved grandma’s cabin.

Kris, Zach, and I were invited to a cabin last weekend, a couple of hours outside of Dallas.  We brought neither cardboard nor tube socks and there wasn’t any snow; it was hot and humid.  But there was a road trip.

And time with family.

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About Jimmy

The stories herein are about a sentimental 80s child who cried at every showing of ET (the sad part where he was lying in the wash) and his families, then and now. His wife, son, parents, and siblings play their parts well. They have their exits and their entrances. Sometimes their exits are sad, but not as sad as ET.
This entry was posted in 2nd Grade, Baseball, fatherhood, Life, memoir and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

15 Responses to Big Bear Snow, Holly Lake Humidity

  1. inkline says:

    January of ’83. That’s when I was born. There was more than you knew behind that grin as you slid down the hill on the snow…your wife was born in Minnesota! Let’s go to Alaska and give Zach cardboard for his birthday!

  2. Adrienne says:

    I love road trips! And I’d love to be the Grandma with the cabin…we’ll see – I’ve got a solid five years to get my act together and find one!!

  3. Dor says:

    I remember Big Bear snow too. We lived in Big Bear City off an on in younger days. My husband was helping to build park roads in remote areas. How lucky you were to visit Grandma in such a beautiful place!

    • Jimmy says:

      It was great! We lived in the San Fernando Valley and made it up there a couple of times a winter. She ended up selling the cabin when I was a teenager, but I’ll always have fond memories of that city.

  4. Mom says:

    Guess I wasn’t along for that trip. I always liked Grandma’s cabin, but not so much the snow.

  5. Dear Jimmy, your blog is the most heartwarming one I know and I always look forward to your next post because they each trigger off a little memory of my own childhood. A million miles away from yours in a totally different setting – coconut trees, water buffalos and paddy fields. But somehow, the silliness, carefree days, fun and the preciousness of it all remain the same. Thank you and warmest greetings to you and your beautiful family! Sharon

    • Jimmy says:

      Thank you so much for the kind comments! There is something universal about childhood. Though I don’t know how you survived without going to a Dodger game. Best to you and yours!

  6. Oh i love road trips what a lovely write up
    and Zach as ususal is the cutest and hero of this post
    hugs to the cutie pie 🙂

  7. granbee says:

    Trips like these with family are just providing a glimpse of heaven, aren’t they?

  8. Dianna says:

    Zach looks very pensive….. As always, great post, and love your wife’s comment!

  9. Pingback: A Blog Award « My Drafting Table

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