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Life Before the Melt: An Interview

March 10, 2010

I caught up with Frosty T. Snowman, age 4 months old, in my neighbor’s front yard this past weekend during a very light, misty, rainfall. Frosty was notably upset with the current weather conditions but more so with his overall physical condition. “It’s like this every year”, he told me. “Children build me shortly after the first snowfall, usually sometime in early December and then forget me.” Frosty, who spends most of his time alone, complained that once the novelty of a “new snowman in the front yard” wears off he’s left to fend for himself. While Frosty doesn’t mind being alone and serving as a yard decoration during the winter months, he says he wouldn’t mind a little “regular maintenance from time to time”.

Frosty is good-natured about some of the pitfalls of being a snowperson and over the years he’s come to terms with the lost art of corncob pipe construction and silk hats, but he stops short when he talks about noses and eyes. “Never use a carrot for a nose” he warns. “Especially if you don’t have a reliable method of keeping the crows from your yard.” As to eyes, Frosty advises to, “Always use the standard buttons. Metal or plastic, it doesn’t matter, just as long as it’s a button.” Placement and permanent fixation of eyes is another of Frosty’s concerns. Standing outside all day and all night he reminds us that, “despite what the lyricists might say, I’m inanimate so my eyes are important to prevent me from losing my mind earlier than late thaw. Don’t ever forget that.” Frosty urged everyone to “please pay special attention to the eyes.”

Noticing my neighbor eyeing me suspiciously from his living room window, I realized our time was running short. When I closed the interview by commenting that Frosty had lost about six inches in melt over the last week he was philosophical. “It’s the nature of things. It’s life” he said. Although he did suggest snowperson lovers take action by “contacting your local politicians – as many as you can – and asking them to support legislation to do away with Daylight Saving Time forever. It’s not much, but it’ll help.”

I left Frosty much as I found him: leaning to the left and dripping. Straightening Frosty’s twig arm before I left, I felt a sense of sadness that he’d soon be gone for good. “Don’t worry,” I heard him say to my back as I walked away, apparently having read my mind. “I’ll be back again some day.”

© 2010 by Michael Fishman

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