When I see folks all bundled up, the first fleeting thing I think of takes me back to my childhood.
I see all those Covid masks and ‘gators and for just a split second, think I’m back in cold, old Buffalo in the Winter and these people are bundled up against the weather. Just for that short part of a second, I think I’m seeing people with scarves and neck wraps and other modes of protection developed in places like Western New York to protect one’s face from the cold wind.
There and then it was brutal enough to “build character”, as my Dad used to call it. Often, we’d think of a day in mid-February when it was 28 F, as almost “balmy”. This is how inured you get after a while.
Personally I was having so much fun out in the snow that I got first stage frostbite many, many times. I guess I was just a slow learner, even then. I would finally return home and realize that I couldn’t “feel” my fingers, toes…what have you. So I’d have to run cold water on the affected part of my body until the feeling returned. Then I’d slowly increase the water temp until I was heated back up. Folklore of the time stated clearly that you’d damage you fingers, toes …whatever, if you hit it immediately with hot water, and this was such a believed tenet, that in all my years in Buffalo, I never once heard of anyone violating that rule.
One of the fun things we’d do- and thank God my Mom is no longer alive she would have killed me, even now if she’d known…
We’d “go” Pogy-ing.
You may not have heard of this popular local sport, so I’ll explain the Rules:
It had to have snowed recently (which, at the time was a pretty good bet- now, it might snow on a Tuesday and by Thursday it might be 45 degrees!- but “Global Warming” is a hoax).
Then, it was just the frozen wasteland for at least 4 months, and people learned how to, not only get by, but thrive in those adverse conditions.
And, another “necessary condition” is that it had to be a residential street. What we were planning was already dangerous, but to do it on a busy street would be suicide. We might have been foolhardy kids, but were weren’t stupid…
Then a group of us -often as many as eight, but usually more like half that would hang around trying desperately to look innocent, leaning nonchalantly against a stop sign pole, while being careful not to touch any skin to it. The gap between your sleeve and the edge of your gloves was always a danger point. One only screwed up in that manner “once”.
When a car slowed to a stop, it was time to get ready. And when he pulled out, we’d run to grab onto his rear bumper, crouch down, lean back, and “waterski” behind the car. This was referred to as “pogy-ing”.
And, “no” you won’t find a concise definition in Webster’s. I suppose it was just a “local” thing.
I was not the best, not by a long shot. One kid, Tom Zelonis was so good at it, that one day, he caught one ride and we didn’t see him for 15 or 20 minutes! When he finally came walking back; his entire face split with a grin.
“He took me all the way down to military!” He exclaimed. This was truly a legendary ride. Like any good “surfer”, he was revered for his skill, luck and endurance.
Often, too many guys (for this, so far as I know was not a “sport” embraced by any of the neighborhood girls) would grab onto a bumper and the car could not go. So, then the frustrated driver would just sit and honk until we got off his bumper. And we’d let go, rise up and walk away with attitude: “It wasn’t me, Mister!”
The ideal number for most cars of the time seemed to be three. Enough, where if body English was called for, if the car were to go around a corner, you had room to lean away from the turn and keep your balance. Also, with three there was a good level of competition. Who could stay on the bumper the longest? Oh, and luck was involved. If you were to hit a spot with no snow in your boots, you’d be lucky to just be tossed to the ground! So this is why my Mom would not have approved.
And of course everyone wanted the coveted “middle spot”. The bumper was relatively straight and maintaining your balance was markedly easier than if you were relegated to the wrap-around bumpers of the day. If the driver made a turn it was much more difficult to maintain your balance in that less than salutary spot.
And we dressed very similar to folks protecting themselves against Covid: “all bundled up”. But just to be clear, I see a lot of people wearing Hawaiian shirts with their masks. In contrast, we wore a heavy coat, another coat, a sweater, a long sleeved shirt, a short sleeved shirt, heavy pants, gloves…and on and on.
So, in reality, all the similarities between wearing a Covid mask now and riding on cars’ bumpers in the snow…They’re all in my head- but only for a split second until I realize where I am…and there’s no snow.
Yet, for some reason, I now feel like pogy-ing again…
