Out in the snow

By Jeff Becraft

The recent snow we had in South Carolina reminded me of a lot of things growing up. I grew up in Maryland and in our neighborhood, this was at a time when they did not spray the roads like they do today; and it took them a long while to get the plows down the road. So if we got snow, it could hang around for several days or even a week.

And this meant we went sledding down our road.

Now, we didn’t just go sledding… we had what we called “sled fights.” They really weren’t fights… they were more like sled chases that wound up in pile ups. That’s kind of how it worked.

The way it played out was that there was somebody on the front sled. They were the runner; they were supposed to make it all the way down the road and get all the way to a dogwood tree that was in our yard. If they did that, then they won that round.

Coming behind the runner was me (everyone called me Otis… the only people who called me by my real name were my parents) and my best friend who we called Woody. We were several years younger than the others and we were on smaller sleds. We were the guards; we were supposed to protect the runner. Now, how they got us to sign up for this job, I don’t know… but that’s who we were.

The runner would go first, then me and Woody (whose real name was Steve… but we rarely called people by their real name) would go… and again, our job is to protect the people in the front sled. Behind us would come the chasers and the most tenacious slate of chasers were my brother Ed, his friend Crab (Woody’s brother), and another guy named Jimmy. (Jimmy’s twin brother, Dave, who picked up the name “Raunch” during high school football – don’t ask, some things in life are simply better left a mystery – was a lot of times on the front sled as the runner.) So the front sled would take off and here would go me and Woody after them and then here came, Crab, Ed, and Jimmy and they had the fastest sleds.

Everyone was on Flexible Flyer sleds… the ones with the metal runners and the metal frame that stuck out in the front that actually chopped down a smaller tree in our yard from my brother’s sled. (He simply stuck the tree back in the snow upright so Mom wouldn’t know what had happened until the weather changed.)

And so you can imagine… there we were, out in the cold, going recklessly down this road on sleds that the Department of Health and Environmental Control would probably outlaw.

The runner and guards (and Woody was a much better guard than I was) would be going down the road … and then came the chasers. We would try and block them or try and crash into them as they went by, but more times than not, they would usually wreck me… and or Woody.

Sometimes there were massive pile ups. Several sleds, several people just in this big pile in the middle of the road.

One night, our neighbor Jack (who we called Minerac) came out and joined Woody and I as guards. Now, this is basically a single lane road… so there was not much room for maneuvering. On that particular night, there was a huge pile up… and Minerac got a bloody nose. This was epic in our eyes.

Years ago, when I would substitute teach some, if I had elementary students, I would tell them these stories of growing up. They would sit there and be absolutely fascinated. It was like I was talking about another world… and they loved it.

Now I understand that video games are fun and everything else and whatnot, but I still think we’re missing something. It is not the same as being out there actually doing it. In video games, “someone” else is doing it and you are simply pressing buttons.

All of us are older now. I am older and grumpier. And yet we still talk about these times. It is not just casually talking about it either; people’s eyes light up and their voice picks up in enthusiasm… They were times that left a mark on us. The night that Minerac got a bloody nose is still famously remembered.

The cost of our adventures? Zero dollars. We didn’t have any high-tech equipment. We were out there in sweatpants, army pants, jeans… which were usually soaked by the second run. So we are out there cold and damp… and loving it. We didn’t have any high-tech boots either. We had these old black boots that had these buckles that were next to impossible to snap once your fingers were frozen and you had snow jammed in there.

Even though we didn’t know it, those times were more than just having fun; the lessons on the playing field carry over into the lessons of life. Perseverance, fun, encouraging one another, giving our best, getting up and doing another run if that last one didn’t go so well, getting out of the house and experiencing life, taking on an adventure, developing character, teamwork, and much more.

There’s just a dynamic there that really brings a scintillating factor to life… to be outside in the freezing cold and you’re having “sled fights.” It’s not just sitting around waiting for life to come to you… but going out and experiencing the adventure we call life.

Jeff Becraft is the Director of Our Place of Hope located in Columbia, South Carolina, where people find encouragement to regain meaning, purpose, and hope for their lives. Jeff has dedicated much of his life to helping shift the vision of people’s lives. If you would like Jeff to speak to your group or event, you can connect with him at  [email protected].