Eskewpades

The Zany Snow God By Steve Eskew Among my many transgressions, I harbor a load of love/hate relationships. My most infuriating ambivalence involves the zany snow god.   At ease, at ease. I know there’s only one God. No sacrilege intended with my references to the snow god — just mindless, merry myth. For the love of “Fifty Shades of Oy Vey,” I’m no pagan; I’m simply a devout Christian, cursed with a wicked sense of humor. Thank Christ for my early introduction to metaphors. It all began when my inestimable kindergarten teacher told the class that Jack Frost was heading our way to paint the town white. Terrified, I commenced mewling for me mum. Then the sweet Irish teech broke it down in terms I could grasp: “Snow? Oh!” Soon thereafter, I fell in love with the fun of the white wonder, but hated the numbness of me hannies and feets, due to a three-mile march to school. Three miles, I swear. Would an unreliable narrator lie to you? When adulthood struck me, my car often struck other cars,