Snow Lessons

The recent local snowstorm was not as problematic as feared (thankfully), but it left a beautiful reminder of how magical New England can appear in the winter. Thick blankets of pure white snowpack dusted with specks of ice that sparkle like tiny diamonds in the bright, clear, frosty (actually quite cold) sunlit winter air, untouched save for the cleared streets and sidewalks still treacherous for a slip or fall. A sight and feeling even Norman Rockwell would fail to capture in totality.

Growing up in the mountainous reaches of upstate New York, I’ve seen – and dealt with – a lot of snow. Snow piled so high at street intersections that cars had to stop and creep forward to watch for crossing traffic. We walked to school in those days, regardless of weather (no, it wasn’t “uphill both ways”), and I honestly recall the snow reaching my 11-year-old chest while shoveling the sidewalk in front of our house. Amazingly, I think I can count on one hand the number of days our school or town shut down because of the snow.

I’m not trying to go all “Wonder Years” with this. If I had my preference today, snow would be principally on the mountains (preferably in the ski resorts) and only transiently on my lawn and driveway where I can appreciate it for a day or so before it moves on. But that last snowstorm got me thinking about some larger issues, which helped me gain some perspective on the current difficulties we all are experiencing, individually and collectively, in our homes and businesses, locally, state-wide, nationally and globally.

We are told that no two snowflakes are the same. I’ve long had an issue believing that. According to an article by the Library of Congress (which I still consider a reliable information source notwithstanding the fact that it has the word “Congress” in its name), about 1 septillion (a trillion trillion, or 1 with 24 zeroes after it) snow crystals drop from the sky each year. On its face, that statistic would seem to prove my point – how in the world could there be that many variations on what appears to be a simple geometric theme based on the single component of water?

Well first, it turns out that not all water molecules are exactly alike. As we all learned in school, water is comprised of two atoms of hydrogen (H) and one atom of oxygen (O), represented as H2O. As a general matter, those oxygen atoms have an isotope mass of 16 daltons (Oxygen-16). However, some water molecules may contain an oxygen atom with the mass of 18 daltons (Oxygen-18), and others may have an atom of deuterium in place of one of the hydrogen atoms.

In addition, snow crystals are very sensitive to fluctuations in temperature and can change in shape and design as they are formed in the clouds and fall to the ground. As the author of the Library of Congress article put it, “To have two snow crystals or flakes with the same history of development is virtually impossible.”

In a sense, people are like snowflakes (no, I’m not making a political comment). We consider ourselves to be individually unique notwithstanding the fact that we all are composed of the same number of pairs (23) of chromosomes, each of which may contain hundreds to thousands of genes which carry the instructions for making proteins (each of the estimated 30,000 genes in the human genome makes an average of three proteins). When you do the math, it’s pretty clear that there’s potential for incredible variety, but is it infinite? Isn’t there a theoretical limit on the variations, which would mean that it is possible over time to have two people with the exact same genetic makeup?

We have that genetic sameness today in identical twins. Yet even identical twins are two different people, unique in their own ways. What explains that?

Like snowflakes, we are changed by our environment and circumstances as we journey through life. Members of the same family, born and raised together, go different paths, becoming more and more the unique persons they were meant to be. But we each have something far beyond the realms of physics and genetics – consciousness, personality, self-awareness, a sense of spirituality, what some call “soul.” That aspect of each of us is not bound by the limitations of science, math or physical reality. That is how we can be, and are, truly unique, unduplicatable, special.

This holiday season, as we take notice of the physical beauty around us, let’s remember to celebrate the miracle of our own uniqueness and appreciate that uniqueness in others. With that as our focus, the troubles and concerns of the “annus horribilis” that has been 2020 may be a bit easier to deal with. And we can look forward in a more positive fashion to a hopefully happier, transformative 2021.

As Max Ehrmann wrote in his poem, “Desiderata,”

“Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.”

Happy New Year to all!

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