What A Father
What a father
Yore Aspen
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Tim Willoughby
March 1,
2008
Snow
day! Every Aspen child hopes, when they see snow falling before crawling into
bed, that they will hear those words when they wake up. If the buses don’t roll,
then you don’t go. Aspen’s present-day schools are beyond walking distance from
most residential neighborhoods so, even if school is in session, getting there
requires a warm ride. Things were different nearly a century ago when my mother
made her way to school in the snow, but she did enjoy transportation that
rivaled a school bus.
Winter transportation in Aspen’s early 1900s was
mostly by foot. Few automobile owners drove out of their barns to get stuck on
unplowed streets. Those who had far to go harnessed their horses. Those who
journeyed out of town did so on a train. Those who had the means enjoyed the
most elegant and comfortable transport: a sleigh outfitted with blankets and
quilts.
The convenient locations of Aspen’s three schools allowed most
students to walk the few blocks and brave the snow. Sleigh and wagon travel made
streets slippery and treacherously rutted. Some wooden sidewalks elevated shoes
above spring and fall mud, but most were not shoveled in the winter. It was not
far to school in distance, but each step in countervailing winter conditions
could register as a deeply-felt drop in temperature and a chance to slip and
fall.
Many adults remember the child-to-snow ratio: the smaller you are,
the deeper the snow. I recall walking to school in knee-deep snow, but when I
was 6 my knees were not far above grade. I worked hard to push through even one
night’s accumulation. But my father did not do for me what my mother’s father
did for her.
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How the fire department responded during winter in the old days. (Willoughby collection) Click to Enlarge |
John tended the horses and, in turn, had access to exercise them. If it snowed during the night, he harnessed one of the big strong fire horses and chained a length of log perpendicular to the horse’s forward progress. When it was time for my mother to trudge through the six blocks of snow to the Washington School in the West End, he would precede her with the horse pulling the log through the snow. Although the log did not push the snow to the side, it packed it down well below knee height.
What a father.
Tim Willoughby’s family story parallels Aspen’s. He began sharing folklore while a teacher for Aspen Country Day School and Colorado Mountain College. Now a tourist in his native town, he views it with historical perspective. He can be contacted at redmtn@schat.net.
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