From Mona’s desk Just some thoughts

By the time you’re reading this, another major winter storm will have moved into central Nebraska. Like Nebraskans do, many of have spent time in the past several days tracking information about the storm, giving our own opinions on what we think is really going to happen and doing the routine preparations for snow in Nebraska.

I guess I have been somewhat spoiled by the more mild winters or, at least, the lack of snow, in the past few years. I have professed for a long time that I’ve never understood the desire to move to Florida or the desert southwest in retirement. I’ve proudly stated I’m from Nebraska and with God’s grace I will grow old here and I will die here. With a nod to John Mellencamp’s “Small Town,” here is “probably where they’ll bury me.”

This winter, however, has brought me some understanding. I’m tired of walking gingerly over snow and ice, wondering if my next step will be a misstep. I’m tired of the freeze and thaw cycle that keeps me cussing at the county roads and at my own driveway. And most of all, I’m weary of dressing in layers.

Boy, am I spoiled.

The clothing of today is much lighter and more breathable than anything our forefathers and foremothers wore. And I’m fortunate to have the shirts, pants, sweaters, jackets and coats I need to keep warm. Doesn’t stop me, though, from looking forward to the day when I can leave home without my coat or without making sure the extra-warm cap and gloves are in the car just in case.

If I were to fly south in retirement, I wouldn’t go to Florida. Two crowded, too humid. My first choice would be Monterey County, Calif., but the cost of living there is way out of my league so that’s off the table. I’d chose Vermont but there goes my escape from dressing in layers. So I’d probably head to the southwest.

I’ve been to both Arizona and New Mexico. A trip to Arizona was brightened by a visit to a second cousin, who despite not having seen me in decades, welcomed me like we had been close forever. A trip to New Mexico was brightened and enlightened with visits to art galleries in the Taos area. One of my favorite memories of Tucson is a former co-worker and I driving out to the desert and watching the evening sky fade into night. We ran about like the tourists we were, catching image after image of shifting colors and shadows on cacti and hills. We used the top of the line cell phones of the day, pitiful no doubt by the standards we have now. Those photos are long gone now, but the memory of the dusky lavender morphing into violet and then indigo will be with me for a long time.

I have the southwest on my mind because that’s where one of my sisters and her husband are now. Both retired from teaching, they are toodling across the country, from Minnesota to Arizona, at their leisure, with stops in Nebraska to visit family.

If the pandemic and distance combined with an ultra-busy work life and sometimes an equally busy home life has taught me anything, it’s that I miss my sisters. I miss family getting together.

Two weeks ago I was fortunate to head to Grand Island where my two sisters and I, along with our husbands, and one of our three brothers and his wife, spent several hours together. We had a great meal (brother-in-law Mark’s first prime rib was excellent!) and a good time visiting and reminiscing. Watching a program on the best Super Bowl commercials was fun, too, as we talked about the ones we remembered and which ones were our favorites. It was a good time with family, the best kind of time.

Then my older sister and her husband departed for the desert southwest and my husband and I came home to snow and ice, albeit melting snow and ice.

When my sister and her husband make the trek back home, we will learn the answer to a burning question. Did she finally get to see the Grand Canyon? All that way, she said to us in Grand Island, and he doesn’t want to stop at the Grand Canyon!

Here in Nebraska we bunker in for another snow, knowing winter is not done with us yet. Despite the inconvenience and the cold, we know it’s a good thing. We envision the pastures and fields greening up this spring. We may be taking bets on when the last of the snow piles melts but we do know it will melt. We know, too, that we won’t have to wear layers or make sure the fur cap and gloves are still in the car forever. We’ll get our spring (although it may pass in a blink!) and our summer and I’ll enjoy it, right here in Nebraska.