Winter in South Florida is actually quite unique.   No, we don’t get snow, so no snowball fights.  It can get quite cold for us…at least if feels cold.  Let’s put it this way, when it hits 60 down here, we start putting on jackets and coats.  My northern friends always tell me that that’s considered pool weather in their state.  My Northern friends tell really bad jokes.

But the uniqueness of SF winter didn’t strike me until I visited Washington State during winter; Not the best idea for a southern boy like me.  Ice grey skies, white snow and icicles on the trees.  I’ve seen it in movies, but never on a real tree.  Safe to say that if I see icicles on Palm Trees, something’s wrong.  Down here, when it hits the bone chilling temperature of 45 degrees, the sun is still out, patting you on the head lest you forget.  And then that’s when it hits me.  Where else can the wind have a wonderful chill, but the sun is still beaming down on you?  I’ve heard that in places like South Texas and Southern California, it can be very similar, but not exactly.

It’s wonderful.  These are the days that it’s great to walk outside, feeling the cool wind on your face, then being warmed by the sun.  It’s also the days we South Floridians get to wear the winter clothes we’ve been saving for 11 months.  Tips to Northerners, the absolute BEST deals on winter clothes can be found in South Florida.

But deep winter just doesn’t happen down here.  To us, it’s the stuff of movies and stories.  Snow?  Yeah, I’ve heard of it…kinda.  Last time it snowed it was 31 years ago.

Holy Schmoly, it’s Snowin in Miami!

I remember the day it snowed in Miami. This event will never leave my mind.  It was January, 1977, and I was 8 years old and getting ready for school.  My mother ran from the living room to my bedroom and grabbed me by the pajamas  “Come Robertico, come.  It’s snowing!!”

Now, this is probably the very first time (but not the last, that’s for sure) that I looked at my mother like she was a bit on the hooey side, and also the first time I EVER saw my mother run.  Of course, the word “snow” to an eight year old Miami kid was like a magical word.  SNOW?!?! I shouted.  I had only seen snow in the movies or on TV.  I always envied the kids who got it, and could ski, or go sledding, or build snowmen, or what had to “be the bestest fun” – snowball fights.  My friends and I tried to have snowball fights with wet beach sand, but quickly gave up the pastime when major head trauma was becoming problematic.  We tried once to build a snowman out of sand, but it wasn’t really that traditional…looking.  Ok, we put a guayabera on him.

But here, in my impressionable youth, was the chance to see real SNOW.  Visions of sledding and a real snowball where running through my head as I was being dragged by my mother to the front door.  Even though it was exciting, she did’nt let me get past the door jamb.  There it was, a white dust falling from the sky, and melting on the ground.  Oh, it built up a little here and there, but it wasn’t like what I was expecting.  Wringing free from my mom, I ran out and grabbed some of it and brought it back to her.  We both stared at it and grabbed it and wondered how long it would last.  My mother came from the tropical Cuba, so this was an even bigger event to her than it was to me.  She grabbed some, put it in a bowl, and placed it in the freezer.  Little did she know that snowflakes, even little dusty ones like these, don’t hold up so good that way.  Later on that day when she wanted to show my dad, it had turned into an icecube. “Well,” she said, “it was snow.”

We watched the snow fall for about 30 minutes, and as mysteriously as it had started, and somewhat sadly, it stopped. We both said our gosh darnits and wowsers, except in Spanish, and got back to the job of getting ready for school.  Of course, in my mind, this was an event to try to take advantage of.  I told my mom that I must have contracted some severe cold from running around in all that snow, in my pajamas no less, and there was no way that I should go to school that day.   In point of fact, I explained to her, I feel feverish and achy right now, and I must go to bed and watch The Flintstones in order to recover.  I knew I got her with that one…

10 minutes later I’m in the car with my mom driving me to school, seriously wondering where my genius plan had failed.  We where coming in late, so my mom took me to class herself.  My teacher, who studied her teaching methods at Alcatraz and was notorious for her ruler-to-butt technique, looked at us both with that look that usually was a warning to me to hit the dirt, and said “Your Late!”

My mother looked her in the eye without batting an eyelash and said, “It was snowing.  You’re not going to punish him because it was snowing, right?”  Mom gave the teacher the full on, atomic blast, run-for -your -life -’cause -it’s- over -in -three-seconds, look that my mom kept special for those days I did something like put my little brother in the clothes dryer.

I shut up, the teacher shut up, all the other kids shut up.  I think the guy on the radio in the janitor’s office even shut up.  My teachers’ face suddenly took on a brand new smile, from ear to ear, with teeth no less, as she said, “Of course not Mrs. Garcia.  I was just making a joke.  Come Robert, time for class.”

My mom gave me that big ol mom hug, winked at me, and patted me on the butt as a went to my desk.  It seemed that this day was truly unique.  I was safely escorted to my seat, where I met the astonished faces of my friends who where just realizing they had forgotten to breathe, where we began the very important discussion of the snow and how my mother had just knocked out the teacher with laser beams that shot from her eyes.  (Stories just seem to get bigger to little kids, huh)

Later that day, when the bus brought me home, I was hoping that some of the little helpless heaps of snow might have survived the day.  Unfortunately they didn’t.  I ran to my father and told him about my morning adventures of playing in the snow, and grabbing some of it and bringing it to Mom, and how Mom had drop kicked the teacher and threw her through the air judo style.  My Mom told my Dad that she’d explain everything later, and sent me to my room to get cleaned up and get my homework done.  Apparently she gave him the ‘ol over the shoulder winkity wink that told him that all was in order in the world, and that was enough for Dad.

When I got to my room.  I was compelled to hit the bed, look up at my ceiling and sigh.  I think the uniqueness of that day had hit me.  It was my first “What a Day” day, and I’ve remembered it ever since.

What does this have to do in any way whith great patio umbrellas and patio cushions.  Well, not a lot really, but it’s been one of those What A Day days today, where I had fun and terror as I looked over the business and how much better it can be.  It was a good day, so I felt like telling that story to our customers and friends.