Good gravy, it’s cold
outside. It’s so cold that many of the
local schools are closed or have delays, but not my school district. We are the Nanooks of the North. We stay open for everything: Arctic blasts,
blizzards, monsoons, plague… Bring it; we’ll kick its ass.
I run outside this morning
to start my car, my gloved fingers crossed that it will start at all. After a brief and heart-stopping few seconds
of the engine gasping, the motor roars to life.
I put on the defroster and run back into the house. I realize as I’m doing this that it’s not so
bad outside. Sure, it’s cold at -5
degrees, but the wind isn’t nearly as bad as the forecast predicted. To be frank, I don’t even feel that
snot-freezing sensation that usually accompanies weather like this. I’ve ice skated outdoors in these
temperatures with less outerwear than I am currently donning, and I’m starting
to wonder what all the panic is about.
So, it’s chilly. Buck up.
This is New England. It’s what we do.
Five minutes later I’m in
my car and ready to leave for work. Not
only am I ready, but I’m early, running ahead of myself by a solid three
minutes. The entire eight miles to work,
I am humming, sometimes to myself and sometimes along with the radio. The Blue Danube Waltz comes on, which I
mistakenly think is the Skater’s Waltz, and I get all excited thinking some
clever DJ is celebrating the weather.
This thought starts an
earworm: Frank Zappa’s Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow.
I start singing the song
in my head, over and over again – not the whole song, just the very
beginning. Years ago when a nearby radio
station went off the air, my brother and I convinced the DJ to play Zappa for
the last song. I know it was Zappa; I’m
positive it was Zappa. (My brother can
and will confirm this story.) What I’m
only ninety percent certain about is the song.
I’m almost positive it was this song, Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow, which precedes on the album the song my
brother and I have adopted as our Christmas anthem, St. Alfonzo’s Pancake Breakfast.
Yes, since we started the tradition of eating pancakes every
Christmas before presents can be opened, this song makes its way to the
Christmas breakfast table every single year.
As soon as I arrive in my
classroom at work, I fire up the laptop, crank up the attached speakers, and blast
out a couple of rounds of Zappa’s Nanook tale … Dreamed I was an Eskimo … Frozen wind began to blow … Everyone who ventures down my hallway,
trickling in to open their rooms before students arrive, hears the song, sees
me dancing (if they peek past the door).
So, it’s chilly. So, we’re in school. We are the Nanooks of the North, and we’ve
got the theme song and the dance moves to prove it. When you lightweights are still in school
late in June, I’ll be reminding you, “Watch out where the huskies go, and don’t
you eat that yellow snow.”
