I hope you’re happy, Snow Worshipers. This weekend marks the end of Summer, and the decline into Autumn. Pre-Winter. Or, as I like to call it, 180 days until Spring.

It’s the time of year when students dive into school, fashionistas stop wearing white (since they know they’ll see enough of it covering their cars until late March), and people’s thoughts turn to the Holidays.

And by Holidays, I mean the Trifecta: Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Not that I have anything against the Holidays. Halloween is my favorite holiday of the year. It has been since visiting Coney Island’s Haunted House when I was a wee lad (quick aside – I’m not a big fan of Coney’s recent decision to sell off their amusement park rides in favor of swimming pool development – not all people are water worshipers – some love the rush of the wind through their hair).

Back to task. By which I mean the evisceration of the 180 days between Summer and Spring. I’ve developed a theory about the “Holidays.” I believe Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Valentine’s Day and Saint Patrick’s Day are all a ruse to provide the masses with a diversion from the dreadful weather.

Just to be safe in the face of the Sensitive Set, I am not mocking Christmas. This is satire, remember. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. The weather.

Autumn’s nom de plume “Fall” is so called for a reason: poor citizens fall for a marketing avalanche of ghosts, turkeys, a jolly fat man, a baby to herald in the New Year, another baby armed with a bow and arrow (call Social Services) and an inebriated Leprechaun. Which distracts us from the Villain of this morality play: cold weather.

Sure, we fantasize about Winter as blowing tufts of white landscape, the occasional wildlife creature breaking the soft blanket of Nature’s protective cover. Or, for the older members of our readership, Santa riding a Norelco razor across the frozen tundra.

Sure, the white crystals of freezing water look nice upon the first fall of the season. That is, until you have to drive on it. Snowbirds have the right idea: escape the frigid prison of our environs in favor of more palatable climes.

And contrary to what four-wheel-drive aficionados think, when a vehicle hits an ice patch it loses traction. No traction means no hold on the road, no matter what you’re driving.

I kid you not, while I was on the air during the Blizzard of 2004, after broadcasting City, County and State official’s warnings to stay off the road or face legal action, I saw a Ford Econoline van actually tried to travel on a hilly side street in front of the radio station, with comedic results.

I did a live play-by-play of their slippery escapade, trying to drive home the point that public safety warnings are not issued to make Law Enforcement and the Transportation Department feel like they are justifying their paychecks.

Take a break from the Rankin-Bass version of winter, where Heat Miser and Cold Miser sing delightful ditties about meteorological occurrences and remember: Nature is not your friend.

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Robert Roe