The snows of your childhood are always better than the snows of your adulthood. For one thing, the snows of your childhood were much deeper. This is because you were lower to the ground as a child — but why let facts leech drama from a good story?
The only things nobody remembers fondly from the snows of their childhood are the snowballs. There were always a few wiseacres with their eyes set on major league pitcher’s mounds. These boys kept their arms in shape over the winter by hurling snowballs. Five, 10, hundreds, sometimes thousands at a time were launched from snow igloos they had crafted with their bare hands.
These boys were so skilled they could pick off a fellow 12-year-old at 100 yards. They sent other kids diving for cover and more than a few running home bawling with tears frozen to their frostbitten cheeks.