№ 00074: Winters of My Childhood

Nostalgia for a lost experience of time, and of season.

Article or kind of material lost: The winters of my childhood – the cold, the snow, the glee, the sledding, the hot cocoa, the breathless anticipation of a snow day.

Color: Winter white - sometimes pristine, sometimes grungy with debris

Size: 13 seasons

Approx. date lost: 2005

Location: (multiple) Southern Minnesota, The North Shore, The Twin Cities

Every time I get to the studio these days, I am giddy with excitement to open my mailbox and see the Lost Object claims that have come in the mail. Right now this project, this connection with you all, is working powerfully on my brain.

So I’m bringing that energy to claim № 00074, for the winters of my childhood.

Here is what claimant № 00074 had to say:

“Waking up to a snow day, knowing I’d get to go sledding or build a snowman + drink hot cocoa after the cold – that glee that no longer exists, that certainty of cold + snow that no longer exists. No more of both the hope, the boundless possibilities that lay in front of you as a child with an unscheduled day. And truly, especially this year, physically no more winter – no snow, cold or certainty of seasonal timing.”

I’ll be honest with you, claimant – I was born in January 1982 in Chicago, a winter so snowy and cold that my parents were afraid of being able to get to the hospital less than a mile away. Maybe that, plus the absolute BUMMER of having a January birthday in the midwest, contributed to my lifelong winter Scrooge-ishness. But, nevertheless, after high school I moved to MINNESOTA, of all places, so I have come to a grudging acceptance of some of winter’s charms.

Yours truly in January 1987

My school district also, famously, NEVER called a snow day. I don’t think I ever remember having one. But I think what is interesting about your lost object is that the feeling you are missing is that very rare experience of autonomy without responsibility.

A snow day represents freedom – an unexpected reprieve from the structure that dictates a child’s day – but without any responsibilities of adulthood. Once you layer on the sense of wonder that comes from a freshly snow-covered world, it’s understandably magical for a child.

Another 80’s snow child

Of course, we are both here in Minnesota, where it may officially be the warmest winter in history, breaking a record held since 1878. And it doesn’t seem like a big leap to assume that we will only continue to see winter warmer and shorter as climate change continues to escalate.

There’s a sweet sentimentality in this nostalgia for things past, but also a tinge of fear – as Joni sang, “We can’t return, we can only look behind from where we came, and go ‘round and ‘round and ‘round in the circle game”. We keep moving forward, further and further away from those winters of childhood, and yet we also move in a circle, always returning to a season that reminds us of something we’ve left behind.