A place for the editors to unload
Spring is a time of very sharp edges. Gone is the firm protective layer of snow, and the layer of steel guarding us from the sky. The bright sun meshes with the harsh winds, and other such commonplace observations of weather that I suspect are responsible for the Dark Ages.
The practical consequence is that the sections of newly revealed pavement are often juxtaposed with fields of black ice ready to make your rear end a load-bearing component. For us students, it means the time of the semester when we can reasonably be expected to have learned something out of all the time, toil, tears, tribulation and tuition that have gone into the class.
This means that the prospect of summer is balanced out by the sobering realization that if we were to set our alarm clocks for late April, we would likely wake up with very few passing grades. And this is to say nothing of those who are graduating.
For those still in grade school, it is the time when many participate in that which is unquestionably the most brutal sport: track and field. What other sport sends you out on a bus to putz around a football field for several hours wearing a funny little outfit, occasionally being mustered onto the track where your physical prowess (or lack thereof) is put on clear and unbiased public display? Any brutality in football or hockey are just for display. The brutality of track amd field is its very nature.
Other recreational pursuits here include the early pursuit of summer sports such as biking and swimming, or the late pursuits of winter sports such as skiing or sledding. Both are similar to their regular season counterparts, only considerably more painful. To get a better understanding of this, try to go jump in the lake when you get the chance, or sled down an ice hill in a t-shirt. The good news is that if this column has made you miss winter, it’ll return soon enough, usually a day or two after you put away your coat and Yooper scooper.
