Unusual wintry precipitation that kept her at home and off the road in Kilgore, Texas, sent our family archivist looking for the picture of a memory. The location was an even less likely setting for the white stuff than Kilgore, and her shared picture also brought back memories to me.
Our three children and I had remained in San Antonio, Texas when the Army sent Al to Vietnam because of a good community support group. Snow while he was gone came as a complete surprise.
My friend Joyce, part of that support group had awakened during the night and saw the snow falling. Her three children, who ranged from nine to thirteen years old, had never seen snow. Not wanting them to miss this opportunity, she went around waking them up to come look with the fear that they would miss this opportunity if the snow did not last until daylight. She may have been as excited as her children when it continued to fall. The whole two inches of snow gave all of them much fun the following day.
Several streets away, I did not see the snow until the next morning when I looked out our back picture window. With two whole inches of snow, I knew there would be neither school nor any other unnecessary event in San Antonio that day. I dressed Murray (9) and Anna (3) in their warmest clothes. The rainboots and light hooded jackets covered most of the worst that San Antonio ever offered in the way of weather. It was one of the few times that wearing pants did not get a major protest from Anna. (“Pants are not pretty,” she insisted.) Toddler Mark and I mostly watched from the warmth of the inside and made the necessary hot chocolate.
We lived in San Antonio for nine years, and this was the only snow we saw. I taught kindergarten for six of those years. Unless they had moved from somewhere else or visited a grandparent who lived up north, most of the kindergarteners had never seen snow. Nevertheless, every year, a favorite unit for students and teacher was the one that included The Snowy Day, The Big Snow, and White Snow, Bright Snow.
