My family didn’t take very many winter photos. However, when we did, most were taken in our backyard on Summer Street. Our backyard was very small, so there really weren’t many options for unique backgrounds.
The sidewalk in the photos ran parallel to the back of our house.
The yellow arrow is pointing to the back yard sidewalk that goes to the garage. Actually, the garage, which is detached, originally housed a carriage or sideboard wagon because the house and garage were built around 1895-1899, before automobiles were invented.
When I was growing up, the tree, noted by the purple arrow, was a crab apple tree. It looks like it has brown enough to completely obscure the view of the garage, which is located right at the tip of that arrow.
First, here is my dad, George Sabo, bundled for a blizzard in his high chair and then in his little walker.
Fast forward 26 years:
It couldn’t have been that cold outside because my father isn’t wearing gloves or his scarf. However, it looks like I am ready for the coldest weather possible.
Guess it was a good thing I had that outfit, though, because on the same roll of film was this picture:
Did you ever have to wear one of the snowsuits? They were/are common back east for infants and toddlers, but they also came in children’s sizes. I distinctly remember the girls’ snowsuits being onesies that zipped up the front. I think they might even have had buttons on top of that for good measure.
I hated those things because my mother made me wear them to walk the four blocks to school on cold winter days. Yes, they kept us warm, but we probably looked like Teletubbies waddling around in them.
There were two other reasons to hate those things. First, they were a pain to put on. Skirts and dresses had to be crumpled and stuffed inside them.
Second, and much worse, was the fact that my school didn’t have any cafeteria for students to eat lunch. There were also no students who rode a bus. We ALL walked. That meant stuffing myself into the snowsuit before leaving home, prying myself out of it in the girls’ cloakroom at school, along with all of my other unfortunate classmates who were also trapped in a onesie, getting back into it at 11:30 for the walk home, getting out of it for lunch at home, putting it on for the return afternoon walk to school, taking it off for afternoon class, donning the hated garment one more time for the 3:30 walk home and, finally, getting out of it for the last time as soon as I walked in the door.
I always hoped the weather would be better the following day and Mom would say no snowsuit needed. 🙂 I wish I had a picture of me in one of those, but I was probably too cranky whenever I was in it that my mother (rightly) decided it would be a waste of film.
Maybe, just maybe, those snowsuits were one of the reasons that, to this day, I am still not fond of snow.
What winter memories of growing up do you have?