Living in the Midwest my whole life has come with its perks — gorgeous open fields, great fresh produce and the friendliest people you’ll ever meet — but the weather has not been one of them. We Midwesterners are all too familiar with the weather’s drastic, nonsensical fluctuations. It’ll be 60 degrees Fahrenheit and sunny one day, then the next thing you know, you’re trick-or-treating in a blizzard. Between the blistering heat of summer and the biting cold of winter, I have often found myself wondering why anyone — myself included — would decide to live in such a hostile, bipolar place.
Last week, everyone on campus got a taste of this signature Midwestern weather. Sunday brought over 8.2 inches of perfect packing snow to South Bend (which was more than enough to justify the traditional all-school snowball fight in the early hours of Monday morning), breaking the previously-held record for that day: eight inches in 1913. I’m a Wisconsin native, and therefore no stranger to heavy snowfall, but I found myself enthralled that night along with the rest of campus. The Golden Dome shimmered white, framed by snow-covered trees straight out of a Christmas card. Snow on the roofs of the dorms and dusting the tops of statues reminded me of icing on a gingerbread house. Footprints in fresh snow traced paths to lumpy snowmen with crooked smiles all over campus. In just a few hours, the place had transformed into a winter wonderland.
By far my favorite part of the night was observing my friends from the southern parts of the country react to the weather. Some of them had never even seen snow before. Watching them get so excited about weather that would have set off an epidemic of seasonal depression back home made me view the snow with a newfound wonder. I shared their giddy joy when they made their first snow angels, when we built a lopsided snow reindeer together and when we ran through the falling snow. Not only was the landscape transformed, but so was my perspective. I realized I’d forgotten what it felt like to be a kid on a snowy day.
That night really got me thinking about the power of perspective. I’d never considered the things in my life I find unpleasant — like brutal Midwestern winter weather — could actually bring joy to others. I’d spent such a long time hating the cold and grumbling about the seasons that I hadn’t thought about why people love them. As the first Notre Dame snow reminded me, there is beauty in all of nature’s forms, even the harshest ones. If we can recognize that and find beauty amidst pain, it has the power to dramatically change our perspective — like how I was so caught up in my friends’ excitement that I “forgot” to be cold or wet. Joy is contagious, and if just one person can find it, any experience can be transformed into something beautiful.
The snow has long since melted, leaving behind patches of mud. And while the pain from receiving a solid chunk of ice to the face has faded, the memories of that night remain. I won’t forget how we celebrated and laughed in the bitter cold while snowflakes pelted our faces. I won’t forget how I rediscovered the truth behind the saying “winter wonderland.” I’d still take summer over winter any day, and I can’t say I’d be happy for it to snow on Halloween, but I now have a newfound appreciation for the unpredictable weather and cold winters of the Midwest.
Noirin Dempsey is a freshman from Lake Geneva, Wisconsin currently living in McGlinn Hall. When she’s not studying English and journalism, she can usually be found playing piano in the McGlinn chapel, wandering the snack aisle at Trader Joe’s or watching the Chicago Bears lose football games. You can contact Noirin at ndempsey@nd.edu.
