Sledding in West Roxbury...

A client brought this wonderful sled in today – it had been in her family since the 1920s when her grandmother rode it on the snowy hills in bucolic Concord.

So that got me thinking about sledding, and sledding in the city. If you grew up in Westie – you hit the slopes at , which had beginner, advanced beginner and expert slopes – all at your disposal! My two brothers, sister and I were pretty lucky, we lived near the field and with only a five minute walk along Weld Street – we were in sledding heaven.

It was also an activity we did ourselves – no parents involved – no rides needed – just a bunch of neighborhood kids walking to the field, with the simple parental instruction of “be home before it gets dark.” My mother would slather our faces with vaseline to prevent chapped skin, and stuff tissue in our pockets in the vain hopes that we’d use them instead of our sleeves for the inevitable runny nose.  God knows she tried!

Because we are Armenian, and knitting was an Olympic sport in my family – we wore rather strange snow outfits compared to our American pals. Now I know everyone’s grandmother knitted them hats and mittens, but our grandmother knitted us hats, mittens, scarves, sweaters, and SNOWPANTS. And made us wear them! (if she could have draped an afghan over us while we were sledding – she would have, believe me) I can still remember the aroma of the wet wool, it’s a smell that makes me smile as Gramma Eugenie was rather obsessed with keeping us warm - (ergo the snowpants). I’m sure our New England winters were a cold slap to a woman who had lived most of her years by the warm shores of the Eastern Mediterranean….

We were cool Westie kids with our boots, though - my brothers wore the de rigeur olive green galoshes with the yellow laces, and my sister and I sported the very stylish rubber affairs with the elastic loop over the button on the side. Plastic bread bags were the next layer to keep our feet dry (insulated boots back then? naaaah.) and then at least 2, sometimes 3, layers of socks to keep the toes warm.

Once home – all the wet clothes would be laid out on the radiator to dry, and we would sit there too – to warm up our small, tired selves.

Because we were tired – a wonderful exhaustion from trudging up the double hills of Hynes (that’s the expert slopes to you tourists) for the exhilaration of speedily steering our two foot wooden sleds over the snow – it was hard kid work, but we LOVED it, and for sure we slept like little rocks at night.

I am sure everyone has their own version of our beloved Hynes Field – so as we approach the start of the winter – we’d love to hear about your fun sledding memories – city, suburb, or country!