Louie had a knack for taking a mundane activity and moving it to adventure status. When my friend Mark and I went sledding at “Cardboard Hill,” we often got our blue jeans so wet that they froze solid by the time we got home. I can remember many Saturday afternoons thawing out at Mark’s house, with our jeans standing next to us on the furnace floor grate. As usual, Louie takes the wet blue jeans thing one step further. Perhaps memory fails me, but I don’t remember doing anything this dangerous at that age.
In the 1930’s we had some good amounts of snow that fell to the earth and along with the wind, it created some huge snowbanks.
I can remember seeing smoke coming out of the snow that fell to the earth and along with the wind, it created some huge snowbanks.
We use to go to this farmers barn where he had to tunnel to get into the barn to feed his stock. He would take out barrel slats (these were what we used for skis) (the came from barrels and we would nail cloth stirrups in them), we climed up to the haymow, go to the haymow door and ski down from there. We also could walk into the haymow without going into the main barn.
In the old gravel pit the snow would create some huge snow banks just about 10 feet below the ridge of the pit.
We would take a run to the edge of the pit ridge, jump and bury ourselves up to our elbows. By keeping our arms straight up during the jump we would be able to dig ourselves out again.
Not having color fast or whatever it was in clothes, the holes we climbed out of would be left with holes that had blue coloring from our overalls. Was quite the sight when you got up on top of the ridge and looked down at all the blue holes we created.
When we walked home from there our clothes would freeze solid. We looked like miniture Frankensteins walking home. Funny thing about all this is that none of us ever suffered a cold from this.
Think of that, we didn’t get into any trouble this time … !