featuresFebruary 1, 1995
We know we're going to get at least one thick blanket of snow before the winter is over. But when? Until it happens, we'll all be as restless as a Super Bowl audience before kickoff. For some, the wait carries more anguish than the Super Bowl game. For others, the absence of snow makes this winter's panorama seem as bland as Kathy Lee Gifford's version of the National Anthem...
BILL HEITLAND

We know we're going to get at least one thick blanket of snow before the winter is over. But when?

Until it happens, we'll all be as restless as a Super Bowl audience before kickoff. For some, the wait carries more anguish than the Super Bowl game. For others, the absence of snow makes this winter's panorama seem as bland as Kathy Lee Gifford's version of the National Anthem.

The longer we drive on parched pavement instead of pristine flakes, the scenario becomes a cruel tease. We enjoy the healthy rays from an afternoon sun, but we know it's just lulling us into a false sense of security.

There are all these decisions that have to be made. Maybe we should buy new protective gear this year. Then again, maybe we can use the money for something more practical, like a St. Louis Rams personal stadium license.

The anticipation of a few snow days that have yet to be delivered must be driving both teachers and students crazy.

After all, winter isn't officially recorded in the Midwest until a kid gets to hear the magic words: no school today because of snow.

Teachers who have been trying to adjust their schedules to allow for snow days are probably wondering if they have been too ambitious or too light with their respective workloads.

Maybe there are even some teachers who are looking forward to a chance to sleep in on a non-holiday that has already been written into their contract.

Folks who work for the Public Works Department won't be able to rest easy until they have met their annual obligation of plowing their way through a long day's journey into night.

The person who mapped out the snow routes will feel like his job was in vain until the ground is rendered slick.

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Entrepreneurs who make a quick buck by turning their construction equipment into plowshares of a different sort will feel rewarded once the inevitable happens.

Mailmen won't be as appreciated as much until the main arteries are clogged with the white stuff and the exact time of their arrival becomes so noticeable.

Stores that have stocked extra salt, snow shovels, boots, gloves, hats, sleds and essential food items like frozen pizza can breathe easier once the first big snowfall happens.

As soon as we get our first coat of snowflakes, we'll become interested in how much surrounding cities got. If we know someone in a city that got more or less than us, we'll run up a big phone bill to document that fact. Let's keep in touch, we'll promise. Yeah, right.

If we show up for work late, it's no big deal. In fact, we'll be commended for showing up at all.

Until the white stuff tumbles from the sky, tow truck drivers will be stuck in the office.

Until that first heavy snowfall renders us paralyzed, we'll have to continue going about our business as usual. We'll keep talking about the O.J. Simpson trial and how The Juice's book sales are going. Maybe there's another feud brewing between Simpson's 350 attorneys.

Ugh! Enough of that.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

~Bill Heitland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.

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