Oswego State is only the No. 2 snowiest college in America. This is, of course, devastating news.
We want to believe our snow is special. More special than anyone else’s. That it makes us important and tough. We want the world to marvel at our ability to trudge through negative wind chills and whiteout conditions on our way to class. And when that class is canceled, it is met with a slight feeling of disappointment that we can’t rub it in to our friends at other cowardly universities who lock their doors at the first sight of a snowflake.
Who does Michigan Tech think it is? We are sure the university is a great place filled with kind people, but they cannot know our suffering. Does their snow fall through 50 mph winds? Is the basis of the entire school’s identity that snow falls a lot there? You can bet their students aren’t walking around in shorts in February. (Note: Oswego State students should not be doing this either, but some do and we support their lifestyle).
They have taken something from us they can never understand. Snow is who we are. It’s so ingrained in everyday Oswego life it even changes you when you go back home. Yes, the Central and Western New Yorkers have adapted to this lifestyle, but even our brethren from Downstate have made the adjustment. Everyone says it when it snows in his or her hometown during winter break: “Oswego could handle this snow.” Bottom line, snow is our curse and our gift. Without it, we are nothing but a lake and some geese.
And to add insult to injury, they make us share our place on the snow throne with Syracuse. Syracuse gets our secondhand snow, at best. After Snow Meiser is done bombarding Oswego, he moves on to Syracuse just to keep his skills sharp. We are where the lake effect begins; Syracuse is where the lake effect fizzles out. Take a seat in third place where you belong, Syracuse.
So how does a university cope in the face of such a great insult? One day at a time. We will move forward, one salted, slush-covered footstep after the other.