So we built this igloo.  This sweet fantastic self-enclosed structure that was so sweet it made my heart warm.  We worked on it in the sunshine, kids and grown-ups.  People would wander over from sledding just to watch us build it.

We worked as a team, we planned, we executed, we modified our plans.  We learned the benefits of slightly wet snow, used as mortar to hold the close-packed snow blocks together.

And as the bricks bonded together with impenetrable strength, so did our hearts, around our wonderful igloo.  It was completed, fully enclosed.  You had to crawl to get in but you could stand upright in it.  It was warm and snug, out of the wind.

It was priceless. We were proud of our igloo, proud of our ingenuity and work.  Proud of creating something from nothing and basking in its glory.  We smoked cigars in it that night, and that was probably the coolest night I’ve had in the last few years.

We figured it would stand for days or even weeks if the weather stayed cold enough.

And then the Man came and busted up the igloo with his big snow plow.  No warning, no discussion.  Just crushed it.

So now I know how Homie the Clown felt all those years.  After a lifetime of being allied with The Man, I have finally tasted his fury, and it was bitter.