Fishy Snow
by Anne Loucks
I grew up in the Seattle area, so snow was a novelty for me. We generally got a tiny bit each year. Most of civilized society would fall apart for a couple days when those precious 3 inches fell. School would be canceled. We would make snowballs and try to sled on our paltry gift from heaven. We ate falling snowflakes and lumps of white right off the ground. It was fun. I learned that snow is for eating and playing.
The theory does not always hold up, however. Going through the supermarket, eating snow could be a bad habit. When I was young, upon seeing the shaved ice which held numerous fish and crabs, it seemed perfectly sensible to gobble some of this artificial snow. My mother quickly told me not to, saying it was dirty and should not pass my lips. This failed to stop me, however. I loved eating snow. It was a special delicacy not to be denied me, so I would sneak handfuls whenever she was not looking.
Eventually, after being caught too many times, or getting bored of it, I stopped eating the fishy snow. Still, sometimes when I am at the supermarket I place my hand on that shaved ice holding fish with gaping mouths, and I wonder if anyone would try to keep me from taking a mouthful.
