The Art of the Slide

Moving diagonally downward through the snow, at accelerated speeds, on a piece of plastic, wood, or metal. Why is it fun?

In the colder months, when a good snow falls, I take my children to a hill, and we participate in this rite of fun.

Sledding, tobogganing, skiing, snowboarding, tubing. It has many variants and names. But they're essentially all the same. You hurtle down the tilted ground at high speed, using snow as a lubricant for a vessel that couldn't carry you on the naked grass.

From schoolyard hills to black diamond ski slopes, it bridges the generation gaps. In places with snow, it becomes an almost universal human experience. A $5 plastic saucer is the only barrier to entry.

It provides hours and hours of joy and fun, a reason to be outside in the chill months, and a great bonding activity. It also generates a large portion of New Hampshire's economy. What shall we call it? Snow sliding? Fluffy frozen frost coasting?

No matter the name, it has carved out a significant place for itself in the American fun department. It seeps into the cultural consciousness.

Calvin has his best philosophical discussions with Hobbes as they dash toward certain doom on his toboggan.

George Bailey saves his brother from drowning after they mistakenly sled too close to a thawing pond.

And countless video games include snowboarding or skiing as a secondary attraction or main event.

I find it interesting that the descent is the goal and the focus. In most of human culture, the rise is the main attraction, the desirable outcome. We climb mountains to get to the top. We buy stocks to profit from the ascending price. Some of us *cough* do drugs to get "high". Winning teams sit at the top of the standings. Young children are excited to grow "up", until they learn what a sick society does to its adult members. Our greatest cities build the tallest buildings.

Usually, "up" is the undertaking. So why do we suddenly place so much emphasis on going down?

We seem to synchronize with nature, by mimicking her plummeting temperatures. Snow sliding becomes an interpretative dance, in which the people plunge down hills like the falling leaves from the trees, like the liquid in the thermometers.

Then, as winter ends, our trudge up the hill back to the top begins, just as we do spring cleaning to regain our home's potential energy. To make this easier, rich people have maids just like expensive ski resorts have chair lifts. The parallels are countless.

If I was in charge of naming new national holidays, I would make December 26th National Snow Sliding Days, and make propaganda to encourage all families to go sledding, skiing, or snowboarding.

That idea would probably be more popular than "Everybody send Aidan Lawrence a Dollar Day", which I have yet to propose. And if I'm being honest, it's perhaps more beneficial to societal cohesion.

So this December 26th, please celebrate National Snow Sliding Day if possible.

(Note: this story was originally written for the "Ritual of Winter" challenge, which had a minimum word count of 500 words. It was then rejected by Vocal for not meeting the minimum word count of 600 words. The piece was designed to be a short, whimsical musing on sledding, with an original word count of 503. Due to the meaning of 503 in internet parlance coinciding with the need for outdoor activities, it is the author's belief that the amount of words in the piece shouldn't change. The author is adding this postscript to publish the story.)