It's funny what triggers memories. While Sarah and I were doing the 'white-knuckle shuffle' Saturday evening from Huron, I was watching the snow start to pile up there was a little part of me that wanted to be 9-years old again so I could go sledding down a snow-covered hill.

I know, I know. I could still technically go sledding, but I've got a feeling the landing wouldn't be as easy to overcome as they were 40 years ago!

I grew up in the Seward neighborhood of Minneapolis. It's halfway between Lake Street and Franklin Avenue near the Mississippi River. It was a great neighborhood to grow up in with a TON of kids (some I'm happy to say I'm still friends with to this day) Seward was also the elementary school in the neighborhood that had a 'giant' hill. I put giant in parentheses because when I go by it as an adult, it's not nearly as GIANT as I remember as a little boy.

But every time we'd get a big snowfall, we'd bundle up with layers of sweatshirts, winter coat, hat, gloves, scarf, boots, and on and on and on (think the little brother in 'A Christmas Story', that was us!) We'd grab the rope on our sleds and drag them through the snow to the HILL. In my case, it was eight blocks to the park, then up the hill to wait for an opening between kids to dive onto my sled and go hurtling head first down a snow and ice covered hill, trying to make it all the way to the tennis courts (you knew you had a great run if you made it to the tennis courts!)

Then we'd laugh, grab the rope and go trudging back up the side of the hill to do it again. Sometimes for HOURS, and then walk home covered in snow, sweat and snot with your best friends in the world.

Some days, I wish life was that simple again.