LIFE OF A READER
DECEMBRRR
by Judy Newman with Alana Pedalino
Lorelai Gilmore on Gilmore Girls never got tired of snow and always found it magical. I’m jealous! © PictureLux/The Hollywood Archive/Alamy Stock Photo
Year after year, I notice two conversations that pop up almost every December.
People start talking about how much they love or hate snow.
People start talking about how there’s less and less of it every year.
When I was a kid growing up in Massachusetts, you didn’t have a choice: snow was a guarantee whether you lived in Boston or Great Barrington. And every few winters, Mother Nature threw a blizzard into the mix. My sister and I didn’t mind—snow meant that we could break out our favorite red snowsuits and do all sorts of wintry activities, such as making snow angels, sledding, and drinking hot chocolate to warm up after a day of play.
Eventually, I started to understand why snow wasn’t as magical to my parents as it was to me. As an adult, snow meant near-endless shoveling, shivers, and slow, stop-and-go traffic. I began to prefer watching snowflakes fall from behind my window with a cozy pair of fuzzy slippers on.
But lately? I miss the magic of snow. I’m trying to access that part of myself again that once reveled in snow days, or used to absentmindedly sing Rosemary Clooney’s part from the song “Snow” in White Christmas while watching the white stuff fall—“I want to wash my hands, my hair, my face in snow.” I want to see snow through the eyes of characters such as Peter from Ezra Jack Keats’s The Snowy Day and remind myself that I’m lucky to catch a glimpse of the four seasons each year.
There’s no day like a snowy day—as Peter can attest.
It may be anecdotally true that it snows less and less each year, but this year the Old Farmer’s Almanac has predicted a positively chilly, snowy winter coming our way in the Northeast. The almanac is usually 80 percent accurate in its predictions, so I’m mentally preparing for what’s ahead already. But this time, I’m going to tamp down the dread I’ve trained myself to feel every winter solstice. Instead, I’m asking Jack Frost to bring on Decembrrr and everything that comes with it: a fire in the fireplace, fleece blankets, good movies, my cats curled up at my feet, and also skiing, beautiful storefront window displays, forests of fir trees, horse-drawn carriage rides, and, if her mother will let me, lots of snowman-making with Sophie Rae!
This year, I wish you a happy, healthy, and safe holiday with your loved ones, and I hope that you also take a moment to stop and smell the hot cocoa.
Judy Newman is President and Reader-in-Chief of Scholastic Book Clubs. For more information, visit judynewmanatscholastic.com.