We were in the deep of it. Three of us in a small Studebaker. The year was 1965 and the
place was somewhere in southwestern Pennsylvania. A major dump of snow, six inches
in the first hour surprised us. Road crews were having a time of it. My only concern was
for safety so I pulled well off onto a side road facing downhill. My reasoning was that
when a plow did go by I would have the advantage of getting up momentum to break
through their trucks drift and then drive back to town following the snow plow less than
10 miles distant on old route 40 and then make a right onto route 219 North for another
No plows and darkness falls around 4:30 on a cold December day. My passengers were
picked up from a bus station just over the Mason Dixon line in the town of Cumberland,
Maryland. It was a favor for the passenger’s grandparents who were delighted to have
their only grandchild visit with them over the Christmas Holidays. Her name was Betty
and she was from Dayton, Ohio. We were both soon to graduate high school at the end of
May in 1966. The third passenger was her cute traveling companion Angel, a black fuzz
ball Toy Poodle who had his own little protective carrier that sat between us.
There were no cell phones back then to let her grandparents know that everything was ok.
There was only one radio station that we could receive in our area that we would have an
opportunity for an update for us. WFRB in Frostburg halted its Country Music format to
provide weather updates but sadly they went off the air at sundown and that was the end
of our radio contact. I did have a half tank of gas so running out shouldn’t be a problem.
The insulation of the fallen snow building up around us and the fact that there were no
heavy winds helped save fuel.
I did have a blanket in the back seat and she kept warm enough, Angel was happy and
content and we decided to tell each other our short life’s stories. One very special
moment led to another and a very wonderful intimate teen experience happened between
us. It not only happened, It was such an innocent act, so natural and so memorable that
over the past 45+ years I wonder how that moment has been relived in her mind. Was it
as special to her and thought about often as it was for me?
Today, living 500 miles from my hometown but visiting often during the year, it’s
November 8th and it happens to be the first day of a little snow squall and as it does every
year, those snowflakes on my windshield take me back in time. Does it do that for her?
November 8th happens to be my birthday too. On my 64th birthday I received a small
package at my office. The return address was a town in Ohio but not a personal or
business name above it.
It was a birthday card, enclosed I found a 100% Real Genuine North-Pole Snow-Fake
from the North Pole. It was harvested in mid-air by little elves. A neat handwriting on the
card simply said happy birthday and thank you for a life of happy memories every time I
see or hear the word snow. It was signed Betty and under her name she penned and Angel
She carried the same memories as I have for almost 47 years. It took a Henry Flakes
moment to make it all blossom again in our minds. Henry is the founder of Snow-
Flakes.com and I admire his creativeness. No two Snowflakes are the same but because
of Snow-Fakes.com there are two unique individuals who will be meeting each other
again soon. Memorial Day weekend, just 6 months away.
The end or perhaps could it be just the beginning?