My Spiritual Guide

Dirty, but happy. Immensely pleased with whatever happened. (I believe he has already forgotten what happened.) Dear God, may I be so free.

This Is What I Look Like

This Is What I Look Like
And This Is What I Look Like When Writing

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

The Ice Is No Good

When my parents were snugged in a small house with four children, they decided to build and move from St. Paul, to 'the country.' This is the term used before the word 'suburb' was invented. Thirty miles north from the city, there were few houses and not many other families. Butted to the back end of the lot, was a lake. Although I believe most born and raised Minnesotans learn the language of ice, my tutelage far exceeded the general norm due to the proxity of this body of water to my upbringing. 'The ice is no good,' means you can't skate on the ice. This being due to any number of factors, all of which indicate a pitted, uneven, or damaged surface.
It was not a matter of being able to shovel a rink, that we could do and took to with an enthusiasm that only meant every bit of food would be consumed from the house within thirty minutes of arriving back home from this task. The pronouncement of 'the ice is no good,' was a somber moment, indicating a terminal skating season. The ice would not improve unless it rained, and that possibility was far-fetched when located in The January of Minnesota.

This morning, 'the ice is no good,' returned to my memory. I walk every morning on the banks of a large lake. This lake has been open for the last two months, making everyone who lives in Iowa, insert the phrase, 'global warming,' into their volcabulary. Overnight, this lake has made its transformation to ice. I remembered watching for this as a child. When this happens in Minnesota, the body of water is no longer referred to as a lake. The word lake disappears from the language for five, sometimes, six months. All references are now made from another frame of reference.

'Stay off the ice.' If I had a dime for every time I heard this from my parents and grandparents, I would not be buying PowerBall tickets to pay for my graduate education. When this phrase is uttered, no other words are used to indicate what information is being conveyed. The only addition to this phrase is a hard stare.
'The ice is grey.' 'The ice is white.' 'The ice is black.' We all knew what this colored coded information meant.
'Is the fishing house out on the ice?' to 'Is the fishing house still out on the ice?' Inquiries made from the on-going assessment of the thickness of the ice, and for the non-written calender of winter.
'The ice is cracking.' This means it is so damn cold out, you better stay inside. When the ice cracks in a rifle-like sound, it is way below zero. And I mean WAY BELOW, no clothes or boots or mittens or hat will help you.
'The ice is blue.' This means you can lay on your stomach, and see to the bottom. The ice is clear. This means there were unbelievable below zero temperatures held for an unbelievable amount of time.
'There sure is a lot of snow on the ice.' This is a concern. It is mumbled, head down, by those who fish. And it has to do with winter kill. These people are already worried about spring and summer fishing, and how good it will be.
'I saw a car on the ice.' This statement would fuel a family discussion that would include all expressions of hope, fear, stupidity, science, humor, memory, and opinion. Times ten or twelve people, this conversation would go on for what seemed like forever. The cumulative point everyone was trying to reach: 'What Would Jesus Do?'

This morning the 'ice' was surrounded by the brillant light of a clear sunrise. The tree branches were covered in the sparkling glimmer of water that had been iced. The path was iced, but padded with enough snow to make walking fun. It was a comfortable and old feeling to be surrounded by the familar. But it was a greater feeling knowing that under four layers, I was running pretty warm. I am not at survival anymore...'the ice is good.'

3 comments:

Don said...
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Linda Stipe said...
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Don said...
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