A SNOWBALL FIGHT at the top of this hill? That was a good snow memory. Not all such wintry memories are as positive. 					      	                    Ian Stepleton photo
A SNOWBALL FIGHT at the top of this hill? That was a good snow memory. Not all such wintry memories are as positive. Ian Stepleton photo

     WHEN YOU GROW UP somewhere relatively balmy, as I did, you learn early on to covet snow.

     In movies, it’s always portrayed as this magical stuff that floats down from the sky, whipping up joy and romance as it falls.
A favorite memory from when my wife and I started dating was born of one such night back when we were Ripon College students.
It was one of those perfect snowfalls under calm skies, where massive flakes fell so heavily together you could practically see them bump into each other as they floated downward.

      We were on our way one evening to our on-campus jobs with the Ripon College admissions office, and one of us heaved a massive snowball at each other.

     Whoomp!

      I can’t remember how late we were as we finally trudged into what was then called Middle Hall, flocked in white, still laughing from the “fight.”

     I loved the snow that night.

     Now that I’ve lived in Wisconsin for 25 years? I know better. ...

     To read the entire column, including his idea for an exchange program for students unaccustomed to snowy winters, see the Feb. 14, 2019 edition of The Ripon Commonwealth Press.