Where Are the Snows of Yesteryear?
I am writing this on a January morning that feels as if spring has leaped into our midst while we were sleeping. I know many of us no doubt feel a twinge of guilt when we step outside without a jacket, look at blue skies, know that days like this in January may portend deep […]
I am writing this on a January morning that feels as if spring has leaped into our midst while we were sleeping. I know many of us no doubt feel a twinge of guilt when we step outside without a jacket, look at blue skies, know that days like this in January may portend deep environmental troubles down the road if this keeps up year after year — still it feels nice at this moment. But magazine editors live in a world where time speeds up. These are the days when my colleagues and I plan NEXT winter’s issue. Our bodies may be in the moment but our heads are with winter 2008. Winter is one of those seasons that has always defined New England. Harsh winters can be brutal to live through but we do enjoy the stories we can tell about how we coped with this blizzard or that stretch of numbing cold.
As a dad of two ski-loving boys, winter always started for me as soon as the mountains opened a few trails. We made it a point of pride to be taking first runs in mid-November. This year I am seeing some wonderful ski mountains struggling just to stay open when, by now, they should have at least three feet of base.
Talk to any native New Englander anywhere in the world and I bet within a few minutes you will hear a nostalgia and wistfulness for what they miss most about New England–our changing seasons, each unique, each gradually giving way to another. Each of our Yankee issues is planned around a season. The stories we have planned for next winter depend on, well, winter being winter, not spring. Spring is for our spring issue.
So, later today, I will take one more long walk along the river that runs past my house, and I will guiltily enjoy the sun on my face, but then I will start imploring the weather gods to give us back our birthright — the long cold snaps that have always tested us, the storms that dump the depths of snow that cause school children a few days of bliss, and then we can rightfully rejoice when spring pokes its face sometime in late March.
So if, in the next few weeks, winter comes back, don’t send me hate mail. Yes, it may be my doing — I want snow in our photos in 2008 — but I know deep down you will also be happy to see winter behaving like winter, and a winter issue of Yankee that looks like winter.
Mel Allen is editor of Yankee Magazine and author ofA Coach’s Letter to His Son.
Mel Allen
Mel Allen is the fifth editor of Yankee Magazine since its beginning in 1935. His first byline in Yankee appeared in 1977 and he joined the staff in 1979 as a senior editor. Eventually he became executive editor and in the summer of 2006 became editor. During his career he has edited and written for every section of the magazine, including home, food, and travel, while his pursuit of long form story telling has always been vital to his mission as well. He has raced a sled dog team, crawled into the dens of black bears, fished with the legendary Ted Williams, profiled astronaut Alan Shephard, and stood beneath a battleship before it was launched. He also once helped author Stephen King round up his pigs for market, but that story is for another day. Mel taught fourth grade in Maine for three years and believes that his education as a writer began when he had to hold the attention of 29 children through months of Maine winters. He learned you had to grab their attention and hold it. After 12 years teaching magazine writing at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst, he now teaches in the MFA creative nonfiction program at Bay Path University in Longmeadow, Massachusetts. Like all editors, his greatest joy is finding new talent and bringing their work to light.
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