I was only five years old and was bundled up in my usual winter gear. It wasn’t an unusually cold day, but it was the Chicago suburbs in January (e.g. not warm). I was walking home from school with my friend Karl and we just had a big snowfall the day before. It was around 1 1/2 feet of snow, which is a LOT…especially when the wind causes it to bank up around trees and buildings. Right near some of the houses, the snow would get up to five or more feet deep. That’s one foot for every year of my age and was definitely deeper than I was tall. Because it had been consistently cold, the snow was also fairly light, but there was a bit of a crust on top of it. Karl was always cautious and I was always looking for adventure. He knew to stay away from the snow banks, but I knew it was fun to walk in the really deep snow.
At one particular house, I was able to walk on top of the crust of the snow all the way up to the deepest part of the snow bank. Then…lo and behold…I fell in, and I was up to my neck in snow. My friend freaked out and left, and I couldn’t get out of the snow. I tried and tried, but just couldn’t get out, so I started yelling, “Help!…Help!…Help!” At this point, my mom started worrying about how long it was taking me to get home and she went out on a search and rescue mission. We only lived about three blocks from the school, so she didn’t have to look in too many places. I just kept my beacon going…Help!…Help!” and she eventually found me and pulled me out of the snow. I think she even made me some hot cocoa when we got home.
Moral: It’s good to break the rules and throw caution to the wind. Chances are, someone will help you up when you fall, and you may even get hot cocoa.
– Written by Mr. T on August 15, 2011