"Nana, nana, boo boo. I'm gonna tell my mama on you."
David Chandley said the "S-word!"
I mean way back last weekend, too. He said it plain as day. "There might be some sleet or even a few flakes of snow in the metro area next Wednesday."
Yeah. And Barak Obama might endorse Mitt Romney for president, too-but I wouldn't place a bet on it.
Snow. Y'all remember snow, don't you? It's that white stuff that used to fall from the sky a couple of times a winter - closing schools, making a mess of traffic and causing Kroger to sell out of bread, milk and toilet paper.
Sometimes it would stay on the frozen ground for days. That was back when it still rained, though, and it still got cold during the winter.
I remember those days fondly because we got an unexpected holiday and were able to slide down Red Hill on something besides mud. But there was also a down side to the occasional cold snap or snow storm. It was almost impossible, for instance, to heat the house, and my lips would become chapped and crusted over from playing outside all day, and since our house wasn't underpinned, the pipes would invariably freeze and burst and we would be without water until Oscar Harold Jackson could make it by to fix the pipes.
Watching Oscar Harold climb around under the sink to fix a bad pipe wasn't a pretty sight. He was a big old boy and hadn't enrolled in the anti-drug campaign to "say no to crack," if you get my drift.
But we all loved snow when we were kids, didn't we? It was like we were all transported to another world - a land where Jack Frost was king and everything was shimmery and covered with icicles and the drab ugly landscape was covered with a beautiful white blanket - at least for a day or two.
Sure, tree limbs might fall across power lines and we might have to exist without electricity for a few hours - or even a day or two - but that was a small price to pay for being transported to a winter wonder land.
Unfortunately, Southern snow storms have gone the way of the leisure suit and telephone booths. They began to disappear about the time Bill Clinton became president. Wasn't the Blizzard of '93 the last big one we had? Wasn't that about six weeks after Clinton was inaugurated?
Well there you go then.
I'm not saying there is any cause or effect, understand. Just making an observation.
We have been without a major snowfall for about 15 years now, and I, for one, wouldn't mind seeing another one.
Of course, we have a lot more Yankees living amongst us these days, so if David Chandley's prediction is right and we do get a dusting of snow Wednesday or Thursday, we will have to put up with a lot of tsk, tsking from them. You know what I mean. They shake their heads and make fun of us for getting all excited about half-an-inch of snow and tell us how they "never close schools up north" for even 2 feet of snow and - worst of all - brag about how good they think they can drive on a solid sheet of ice.
It's all part of it, though. I used to try and explain to them that it wasn't the snow we got so excited about but the rarity of the occasion. It's kind of like when that blind hog finally finds an acorn. It's just a stinking acorn, but for a blind hog, it's something to take notice of.
Personally, I am not going to let myself get too worked up over the prospects for snow. I have lived in the South too long and been disappointed too often. There have been times when a "major snowstorm" was on the horizon. I would neglect preparing my lessons, make a huge pot of chili, stock up on videos and haul a truckload of firewood onto the back porch - then I would stay up half the night waiting for the snow to start, only to see the temperature hang at 33 degrees until dawn.
Sometimes it would even go up to about 50 and there I would be, sleepy and cranky and unprepared, having to face a classroom of teens that were just as sleepy and cranky and unprepared as I was.
It's never a good day when that happens.
So this time I am going to ignore the whole forecast and plan to do something out of doors on Wednesday and Thursday - something that I can do in my shirt sleeves, even. If I am not expecting anything, I can't be disappointed, right?
But I guess it wouldn't hurt to go by Kroger, just in case.
Darrell Huckaby is a local author and educator. He can be reached at dHuck08@bellsouth.net.