Reflections
on Emmitsburg Winters of Old
Michael
Hillman
As I began to ascend the ladder toward the last of
the dirty windows, I found it hard to accept that it was
January. I was so warm in fact that I had dared to
remove my shirt and was even toying with putting on some
shorts. Where had the blustery winters and deep snows of
my youth vanished to, I thought?
I had been looking forward to winter all year. With
the horses off on a well-deserved vacation and the
gardens put to bed, I had envisioned a few months in
front of a fire doing nothing but reading and writing.
But with temperatures soaring into the 60's, and skies
of bright blue, it was impossible to resist the call to
be outside.
Blame it on Global Warming, El Nino,
or El Nina, no matter how you cut it, this was one
winter that would not be remembered for its severity.
Come to think of it, since moving to Emmitsburg, I have
only experienced one winter that revived the winter
memories of my youth, that being the winter of 1992-93
and its blizzard of blizzards. But even as formidable at
that 1992 storm was, modern technology provided ample
warning of its approach so we were ready and life pretty
much returned to normal within hours of its end.
As I lathered on some more sun
tanning oil, I found myself wondering what life was like
during a winter storm in Emmitsburg of long ago.
Unfortunately, it proved just a tad too difficult to
visualize a cold winter, especially given that I was
sucking down a frozen strawberry daiquiri at the time.
But just when I was considering breaking out my summer
stock of rum, the jet stream headed south and winter
returned with a vengeance. Suddenly it wasn’t so hard
to imagine being a kid in Emmitsburg in a winter long,
long ago, especially with the help of the older ‘kids’
in the Emmitsburg Historical Society.
Unlike today, children in the 1930’s
and ‘40's didn’t have any fancy weather forecasts,
weather channels or instant weather on the net. If a
storm was approaching, their mom’s would rarely tell
them, lest they raise hopes of school closings and the
mischief those thoughts would bring the night before the
storm.
If your mom was really, really good,
your first inkling of a major winter storm would be in
the morning when you awoke to discover Emmitsburg had
become a winter wonderland. However, if you were lucky
and had a friend, Aunt, or Uncle with rheumatism, you
usually had fair warning of any approaching storm and
thus never wasted a night before a storm in useless
studying.
No matter how bad the storm was or
how deep the snow, kids always got ready for school.
Unlike the wimpy, pampered kids of today, our
grandparents were expected to stand out in the cold and
wait for the bus no matter how bad the weather. Only
well past the appointed time of arrival did their moms
finally acknowledge that school just might really be
closed. But if the bus came, off to school they went,
where they would spend the day wishing for more snow and
an early end to the day.
Emmitsburg was a kid’s haven in the
winter. With hills and ponds a many, it boasted some of
the best sledding and ice skating around. While almost
forgotten today, in younger days places like Bunker
Hill, Havilih, and Popular Hill were names that every
child knew. At any given time, thirty to forty sleds
raced down these prime sledding spots. But if it was
time-on-the-sled one was looking for, then Irish Town
Road, as it was affectionately called back then, was the
place to be. Starting at the top of the hill near Saint
Joseph’s, one could slide clear down to the ‘Wharf’
at Flat Run Creek (just behind Jubilee).
When it came to skating, Emmitsburg
was tops. Skating was so good, in fact, that kids in
Thurmont would often be seen crying and even cursing
their parents for not having the foresight to settle in
Emmitsburg. By far, the best skating was at
Toms
Creek’s Bridge. A pond, almost a
quarter of a mile long, formed behind the old Maxell
mill race dam, and offered a smooth surface that twisted
and turned through beautiful Tom’s Creek Valley.
Whether your goal was to skate fast or to skim slowly
hand-in-hand with the one you loved, Tom’s Creek
offered it all.
Other prime skating destinations
included Flat Run, whose thick tree screen provided
protection from biting winter winds, and the Old Mount
St. Mary’s Pond, drained long ago for a new student
hall. But it was Fraily’s pond that offered Toms Creek’s
its greatest competition. Located just to the west of
town, 200 yards south of the Dough Boy’s statue, it
was a popular spot for skaters who had grown too old to
skate with their parents. Fraily’s pond was laced with
small caves around its perimeter, in which fires would
burn all night. On the ice, or around the fires, those
who would soon face the horror of terrible wars
frolicked with friends and loved ones into the wee hours
of the morning.
Without TV to entertain them,
everyone still found something to do. Whether you
skated, sledded, or simply played cards, a winter storm
offered a chance for everyone to stop and take notice of
the good things in one’s life. But before winter play
could begin, chores had to be attended to. If you lived
on a farm, milking was always the first order of
business for girls. For boys, it was the stocking of
fire wood and coal, cleaning ashes from the stoves and
burners, and drawing water for kettles that simmered all
day, and provided the only warm water in many houses.
Winter storm breakfasts were reasons
for feasts, too, often consisting of ‘pudding’ and
corn cakes, pastries and other sweet treats. Pudding of
course being a ghastly concoction of dead everything
boiled down to pure artery choking lard. But boy did it
taste good!
For those lucky enough to have a
storm hit on their mother’s shopping day, a trip to
town on a sled was the order of the day. Though the long
walk back seemed a lot longer then the ride in, the
sight of the town asleep in the snow provided memories
that lasted lifetimes. Memories that are as vivid today
as the day they were formed.
And yes, snows were much deeper back
then, and according to Historical society members, it
had nothing to do with the fact they were only a quarter
of their present height! Many tales are told of fences
disappearing for months at a time - fences that still
dot the countryside, viewable to all who dare to doubt.
Snows were so frequent and heavy that it was often
possible to step over fences that were otherwise
insurmountable.
Winter storms of course meant money
for enterprising kids. Work clearing driveways and
walkways could be readily found at ten cents an hour.
While today’s kids have snow blowers to make quick
work of it all, back then, kids moved snow one shovel
full at a time. While cars were on their way to
predominance, heavy snows often forced them to yield
their role once again to horses. Untroubled by the cold,
icy roads, or deep drifts, teams broke from the fields
and pulled sleighs of gleeful children. Returning at
dusk with their cargo full of joy, they were rewarded
for their service with bran mashes and an hour long
brushing.
Like the masters they loved, dog’s
relished the fresh snow, too, playing with each other
from first light till fatigue caused them to wander
home. Some would bury their head deep in the snow,
others would prance about, as if putting on a show. Only
shorthaired little dogs failed to see enjoyment in snow,
instead they sought warmth, curled in front of a hot
stove.
As evening descended, all scattered
toward home and the hot meals that waited by fires that
would warm. Evenings were full of games of all sorts -
Chinese checkers, gin rummy and games of that sort. But
no snowy night was complete without the popping of corn.
On really snowy nights, taffy pulling was performed.
Heated bedrooms were a luxury that
few could afford and electric blankets, while nice, were
yet to be born. The fire did beckon as bedtime
approached, and the distance to the fire reflected the
order of go. The goal need I say, was to suck up enough
heat, in hopes of staying warm through the cold night to
come. The one beauty of winter was it made friends of us
all. It was impossible to be mad at one’s brother or
sister, for you depended on them for warmth as you laid
back to back.
Nestled deep in flannel sheets and
under quilts of all sizes, children laid as still as
they could, lest toes touch the cold reaches. With time
and perseverance, sheets eventually warmed to their
liking, and before they knew it, into sleep they had
fallen. A sleep full of dreams and high only a child
dares muster, such as another full day of winter’s
white bluster.
Any story of snow would not be
complete without recollection of snowmen and snow forts,
and other creations imaginations would create. Taking
cue from the oldest, a handful of snow was rolled until
it grew. Starting with the youngest, who got first crack
at the rolling, it grew in size till they could not move
it. Standing in line, the next oldest would advance it,
till they too could not move. The routine was continued
till the oldest was done and there at that spot, the
snowman was begun. Drawing coal from the coal chest, and
a carrot for a nose, the face soon appeared. Racing to
the attic an old hat was retrieved and with the addition
of long sticks, the snowman was done. Often working late
into the night, under the light of a winter’s moon,
they added to his joy with a snow wife and maybe a child
or two.
Snow forts and snow tunnels dotted
the land, joining snowmen and their families as bastions
against winter dreariness. Just when we thought they
would melt out of sight, we would wake up one morning,
and find a new snowfall of delight.
Well in spite of early predictions of
a winter without snow, winter finally came through. As I
watched my dogs frolic in the deep drifts of snow, I
heard laughter seep from the past. I strained to hear
more and began to imagine the source, but the cold wind
was biting and my old dog stood shivering as if to
remind me of his plight. Retreating inside, we warmed by
the fire, and with my dog fast asleep, I consigned these
memories to file.
Have your own memories of Winter of
old in Emmitsburg?
If so, send them to us at history@emmitsburg.net