In the winter of 1990, I witnessed a famous childhood story come to life.
Art by Pete Whitehead
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Story performed by: Aaron Calafato
Audio Production: Ken Wendt
Original Art: Pete Whitehead
Podcast Coordinator: Cori Birce
Creative Consultant: Anthony Vorndran
TRANSCRIPT
[00:00:02.610] - Aaron Intro
Hey, everybody, I wanted to share a message from one of our listeners regarding last week's story titled Breakfast for Dinner. And as it says in the title, there's this portion of the story where I talk about my dad revealing to me, when I was a little kid, that you can actually have breakfast for dinner and how much it blew my mind. Well, Daniel from Ohio writes in and says, Hey, Aaron, I remember a very similar moment in my life. And it was also my dad who laid this epic revelation on me. I can still remember the twinkle in his eye. And he goes on to say, "I wonder in hindsight if the creative choice to eat breakfast for supper was due to not having enough money to buy groceries that week. My parents were masters at turning scarcity into adventure." Awesome feedback, Daniel. I appreciate it. And we love hearing from you all. So keep it coming. Now onto this week's story.
[00:00:57.550] - Cori Intro
You're listening to seven minute stories with Aaron Calafato, please keep on subscribing and leaving those five star ratings and reviews. It helps others find our podcast and that helps us out! Also, we want to hear from you. We set up a number you can call or text. Its 216-352-4010. Use it and share some feedback about one of Aaron's stories or a story of your own. We might feature your message on an upcoming episode. This episode: The Snowman.
[00:01:36.830] - Aaron Story
It was 1990, I was seven years old, and I'll never forget it, I was standing inside my house looking out a sliding glass door and looking out onto the first big snow that had fallen that winter the night before. And my mom had layered me up. I was like the kid from the Christmas Story, I had so many layers I could hardly move, but I'd be warm. And I remember she just sort of pushed me out that morning. And as soon as the sliding glass door opened, I could remember how it felt, the air when it hit me and breathing in that cold, clean air and then the sound of the snow underneath my boots, liking that sound of it, crunching every step I took. And then looking out at my backyard and just seeing how wide-open it was, and beautiful and white and the reflection of the sun against the glistening snow and the bare trees in the background, that looked like arthritic fingertips, sort of pointing to the heavens.
[00:02:39.450]
And then just the possibility in front of me that day as a kid. I had nothing to do except just exist, and create, as long as I wanted to until the sun came down. And I just intuitively started doing it, it was like built inside of me, I think it's built in every kid. I started creating a snowman. No one told me to do it. I didn't have an agenda item. It just happened. And I remember rolling that first portion, the bottom layer of the snowman and how long it took me and how hard it was even when I used the hill for momentum in my backyard. And I just pushed and pushed and pushed. I mean, it took me almost to lunchtime just to get that bottom portion built. And even though I was cold, I just had to go to the sliding glass door, had a couple of celery sticks with some peanut butter. And then I had a hot chocolate that my mom got me, that recharged me. I went back out and I finished the middle portion. Then, after the middle portion, I got the head and I'm smoothing it out like an artist. Right? And then I get a couple of acorns for the eyes. I get a carrot from the nose. I draw a smiley face, very friendly face. And then I have a hat that my mom gave me, an old hat, and then a scarf. And then I used to broken branches for his arms, and then three dark stones for the buttons on the front of his shirt. And I remember just standing back and looking at this snowman I had created. Silhouetted against the the woods in my backyard. And it was like I had created life. Except this was like a friend of mine. It was really amazing.
[00:04:09.640]
And then next thing I knew, the day was over and I had to go inside for dinner. So I go inside, I warm up, I eat dinner, and then my mom says I can watch one more show before bed. So, I find this VHS tape that my grandmother had sent me and it's titled The Snowman. And it's like a cartoon. And I thought, perfect. And this VHS movie was based on a picture book by a guy named Raymond Briggs. Except this is a cartoon. And I start the movie and there's this guy that I have no idea who he is. I later find out it's David Bowie doing a weird intro to the story, a side note, but I keep watching and then it turns into this cartoon. And it was really cool because there was no dialogue. It was just the cartoon with beautiful music.
[00:04:53.500]
And I was just entranced watching this because it was like I was reliving my day. The kid goes out, he creates a snowman, he makes a friend. Only in this version, as I'm watching, the snowman comes to life and he hangs out with the snowman and the snowman comes into his house, and they get into mischief and they're having a great time, and they're riding around on motorcycles. And then, even better, the snowman realizing that time is of the essence, takes this kid and they fly to the North Pole together. And they go to the North Pole and there's a bunch of other snowmen and they're dancing around having a snowman party. And then he gets to meet Santa Claus and Santa Claus gives him a gift. And then the snowman flies the kid back home and he says goodbye. And it was like the best day of his life. And he goes back inside. He goes to sleep. He's so excited to see the snowman the next day. And he wakes up and the sun is coming through the window. And he runs out of bed and he races to the door and he opens the door and the snowman is melted. I was like, devastated. And he goes out and he's holding the melted snowman in his hands and that's how the story ends.
[00:06:07.400]
Now I finish watching this VHS and I'm terrified because I feel like this is going to happen to me. And my mom sends me to bed. I can't sleep all night. In fact, I stayed up almost all night worrying that I slept in the next morning. My mom wakes me up. Now I'm up. It's like 9:00am or 10:00am. I can feel that it's warmer. The sun is coming in through the window. I run downstairs to the sliding glass door and I look into my backyard and I see my snowman. Melted. A pile of snow with just a hat and a scarf and a wayward carrot next to it. And I was crushed. And in that moment, I felt like I had lost somebody. Like a friend or something. And for me, it was like a lesson in mortality.
[00:06:58.020]
But as the winner went on, more snowflakes came. And when more snowflakes came, I could build more snowmen. And then it felt like to me that it wasn't so much of a lesson in mortality, but maybe it was a lesson in immortality, in the sense that even though this snowman experience was fleeting, it always seemed to come back with the cycle and the change of seasons. And that brought me comfort. The magnitude of that. And as I've gotten older, I've stopped making snowmen, but just recently this winter, 2020, I saw the first snow coming in and it actually came in in November. And I ran outside and I called to my kids. I'm like "come outside it's the first snow!" And I'm just watching these snowflakes fall down and I'm thinking about the potential of all these snowmen we could build. And I actually recorded the video and here was what my daughter said:
[00:07:56.290]
Audio: "Lu, what is it doing?"
[00:07:58.080]
Luciana: "It's actually snowing! It's actually snowing, I'm so happy. I'm so happy!"
[00:08:08.330]
To see her, to see them. Experience such utter joy. Just joy. From the advent of a snowflake falling from the sky.
[00:08:26.890]
It just took me back to that pure moment, my childhood moment, and I got to see it through their eyes. And they're not thinking about the snowflakes melting. Or what's around the corner, there just in that moment. And I realized right then and there that it's not the snowflakes or the snowmen that change. It's me. It's us. You know? And I just can't wait to see what these kids create with this snow this year and the lessons that they might learn from the snowmen that they built.
