Sledding

A mistake people make when they grow up is to stop doing the things that are really fun just because those were things they did when they were kids. I mean, to be sure, some things that were fun in childhood lose their charm (freeze tag comes to mind), but some things should clearly be kept up into old age for maximum happiness.

One such thing is sledding down snowy hills. Today, I am glad to say that I did a lot of that. First, with my two boys, I went to the modest hill behind our local middle school for an hour. Then, with friends Chris, Rich, Kerry, Brett, and Fiona, I went to the dikes at the north end of Riverside Park for more serious sledding.

I didn’t get any pictures of our hill-tackling, which involved an inflatable tube and some improvised sleds made from local junk, but it was fun. Chris rode his bike down, which looked great, but discovered the thing I had surmised, which kept me from riding my bike down: it’s hard to schlep your bike up a long, steep hill with snow.

Afterward, we walked out on the ol’ railroad bridge and looked at the big chunks of ice that were caught in the Connecticut’s strong swirling current (see above), grinding and crackling loudly against each other. It was very nice. Next time, more people should come, and we should bring more sleds.

Here’s ice, drifting past the railroad bridge. It was startlingly vertiginous to watch in real life, because it felt like the bridge was moving, and then your head would start swimming, and then before you know it you’d be on the verge of pitching yourself into the river, all Jimmy Stewart-in-It’s-A-Wonderful-Life style.

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