As a child/youngster/youth, if there was anything better than finding out school was canceled, then it was most likely something you'll never own up to publicly.
There might be a "snow day" on Wednesday---and not just for the kids. Some of the big people might get the day off, too.
It's nothing like what's been going on along the Mid-Atlantic Seaboard, which has been pelted relentlessly since late last week, but the folks who should know are calling for anywhere between six and ten inches of the white stuff to cover us between Tuesday and Wednesday.
You remember the moment, I'm sure---the precise moment when you heard that school was called off for that day.
It was early, early morning---likely before 7:30---and you begrudgingly got ready for school despite the blizzardy conditions outside. Grumbling, you pulled on your clothes and trudged with a snarl to the kitchen for breakfast. Or, you were still in bed, stubbornly refusing to even consider going to school in such weather.
Then, the moment.
Maybe it came from mom, or a brother, or a sister. Or from the television, or the radio.
I recall watching anxiously as the news people flashed the names of the school districts who were cashiering the day's learning thanks to the dicey roads.
Then I'd see it: Livonia Public Schools.
I tell you, there was nothing more exhilirating.
The tempting thing was to go back to bed, except that you were so jacked, so pumped, sleep was impossible. Sometimes mom and dad had to go to work anyway, leaving you behind. Being an only child, I got the house to myself because mom usually had to traipse to work.
The hardest decision was determining what to do, with an entire day ahead of you. TV, of course, was on the docket. Eating, too. But there was no Internet back then---we're talking the 1970s, folks.
A snow day was something to be treasured, because normally there wasn't more than one or two a year. The day itself was grand, but nothing could top the moment when you got the news.
You all know what I mean.