This is the second snowiest winter in Milwaukee's history, according to this morning's Journal Sentinel.

I'm not surprised, having lived through six of the top ten snowy winters. And if that doesn't make a person feel old, I don't know what does.

Snowy winter #4 was 1959-60. I was a little girl, and I remember jumping off the roof into snowbanks. Children were hardier then. I also remember my parents digging a tunnel from the house to the garage. (That summer, my dad built an attached garage and sold off the lot where the old one had stood. He figured it was less work than digging tunnels.)

A huge storm came the night before my birthday party. We figured no one would come, but as the time neared, cars started showing up in front of the house. Back then, parents were eager to discharge their kids for awhile, and we all agreed to turn it into a slumber party. We had pink cake and sloppy joes, a fire in the fireplace, and a rollicking good time digging more tunnels in the snow. To us, that was fun. And child safety hadn't been invented yet. 

Now I will don my blue rubber boots and once again remove the wall of snow deposited in front of my driveway. This is the second time in 24 hours the plows have turned the plowfull of snow directly into my driveway apron. That has never happened before. I figure it's punishment for complaining ever so sweetly about their doing it last night.

After that, I'll really feel old. Or my back will.