"P" IS FOR PROZAC
"If you go, when the
snowflakes fall, when the rivers freeze and summer ends..." So begins verse
two of Bob Dylan's infamous "Girl From the North Country". It conjures up
romantic images of midnight strolls through flurried snow with a lost love.
The Currier & Ives skating scene...young faces peering through frosted
window panes on Christmas Eve waiting for a glimpse of that mystical
visitor. Cozy nights next to a crackling fire while the winter wind whips
itself into a frenzy just beyond wooden walls.
Before you start roasting chestnuts, let's examine the reality of it all. It
is Daylight Savings weekend, time to roll back the clocks and for many,
including me, it marks the beginning of another five-month journey into the
abyss. It's odd, the changing seasons, and the impact that they carry with
them. I grew up in a winter family. My father is a legendary summer-hater.
The bugs, the heat, the heat, the bugs. In my youth I loved winter and the
host of possibilities it brought with it. Skiing, extreme sledding, snowmen,
snow houses, and as I grew older...snow bunnies. And then, things began to
change, and not for the better. The older I got I found myself turning into
a summer-lover. This was unsettling for me. I felt as though I was
abandoning my family tradition, wondering if I may have been adopted or
taken from the maternity ward by the wrong family. By my late teens and
early twenties, I was a fully-vested summer enthusiast. After all, this is
when the fun is, and it's much easier to have fun. I began to notice that
winter, and snow in particular, was inhibiting my freedom. Most of the time
it is an out and out pain in the neck to go anywhere or do anything. All the
weak spots in your vehicle expose themselves without shame in the winter.
Bald tires, no heat, one wiper blade, dead batteries, no ice-scraper.
My disdain for winter began to grow like a mutant bacteria, fed, I'm sure,
in no small part by the fact that I work outdoors as well. The earthmoving
business in winter turns quickly to earth chipping as the ground slowly
turns to concrete. Heavy equipment doesn't want to run, diesel fuel wants to
turn to jelly and of course snow wants to be plowed. In my younger days,
snowplowers would wear their sleepless hours like a badge of honor. Fighting
the weather for 24, 36 sometimes more than 48 hours at a time. I used to
joke that my favorite part was when the fatigue-induced hallucinations would
begin. Driving through white-out, horizontal snow when suddenly flying
monkeys are sitting on your hood, signaling for you to pull over. Those
nights without sleep used to roll off my back whereas now, I need about a
week to recover.
Much has been made in recent years about the affect that lack of sunlight
has on some people and we all know about the suicide rate spike that
accompanies the holidays. I too find myself with a little gnawing sense of
dread as Summer and Fall morph into winter. The color is gone, washed away
to a barren gray and darkness seems to come too quickly each day. Cabin
Fever is a popular phrase or the Winter Blues, used to describe the upcoming
days. In my own over-analytical style I have given it more thought in recent
years. Do I need to leave this part of the country? There is no doubt that a
mid-winter trip to Florida brightens my outlook.It just feels better in the
sun. If you're from New Hampshire and you've never been to Florida in the
winter, the first thing you notice the first time you go is that the air
doesn't hurt. So this sunlight theory that I used to discount as another
excuse to feel bad, actually seems to have some merit.
Even so, I believe there is something more inate at play. I believe that we,
as humans, are hard-wired from our caveman past to naturally react to the
onset of cold with a certain amount of anxiety. We are, like all of God's
creatures, prone to nature's fury. Animals know that food gets scarce in the
winter. I saw a Gray Squirrel chain-smoking the other day. In other words, I
think there is a natural bit of anxiety that is part of our fabric. It is,
afterall, winter. It is a climate that we cannot exist in without our
manmade devices. We need shelter, not a hollow log. We need heat, not a nest
of hay and some kind of mystery-fur. We need food, not acorns and pine
needles. We need money for the aforementioned, not claws and sharp teeth.
For many among us this season brings legitimate concerns about the financial
ability to stay warm and fed. In many ways, the wildlife seems to approach
this season with more calm than we do. For us, it's the time of year to
remember that "P" is for Prozac.
In an effort to contain myself I try now to get in touch with my
animal-self. I keep a bag of acorns under the couch and this seems to make
me feel better. I let my winter coat of body hair grow to it's thickest self
and I load up on carbs and fatty foods, just in case. I remind myself that
there is an end to it and that every year springtime is like a rebirth and
it keeps your appreciation of that miracle near the redline. The only regret
I still wrestle with is that my wife has again denied my "permit to
hibernate" even though I filed it by the required deadline. Which reminds
me, maybe all of us who dread winter should take a hint from the smartest of
all the animals...the black bear..."I'm going to bed for four months...wake
me up when it's over."