I always wanted to be a lawyer — No, I’m not unsatisfied in life and career like George Costanza: “You know I always wanted to pretend that I was an architect!” — but I was very into law when I was younger and most people thought I’d end up there.
Strangely, it wasn’t the law profession I was attracted to, it was law school that always held romantic appeal for me. Yes, romantic. Even when I was very young.
This was mostly due to The Paper Chase, a television show I quite enjoyed in the late 70’s early 80’s.
Seriously, I was 10 years old and totally loved it. I had a crush on Hart and was truly frightened of the haughty, sarcastic, ego-destroying Professor Kingsfield, played by John Houseman.
“You teach yourselves the law. I train your minds. You come in here with a skull full of mush, and if you survive, you’ll leave thinking like a lawyer.”
I also have the nostalgic warm and fuzzies for the theme song: “The First Years,” which was performed by Seals and Crofts.
See grainy opening credits here:
THE FIRST YEAR
The first year’s a hard year much more than we know,
With good friends to love us we’ll field every blow
Stay open to all things, unknown and new,
Then one day we’ll all say
Hey look, we’ve come through
The first year
There’s my tagline. I propose a disaster movie; A doomsday film; A film too close for comfort these snowbound days.
Why not? We’ve had Meteor!, Twister!, Volcano!, The Perfect Storm and even The Core, where apparently microwaves were gonna “cook” the planet.
I propose Blizzard: The Movie. I’d even settle for an episode of The Twilight Zone or The Outer Limits.
I’m starting to feel like Rod Serling is gonna come out of the shadows by my front porch, holding his cigarette and smugly informing me that man’s morality is somehow connected to this bloody shoveling mess:
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It lies between the pit of a man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area we call the Twilight Zone…
Imagine if you will, a St. John’s night in February.
We see a woman in a cafe, through the lettering on the front windows we see the snow is gently falling outside, big flakes straight down, just a gentle prelude for what is about to come. The patrons’ attention turns to the weather on Channel 5: “That’s right, Fred. It’s one of the biggest systems we’ve seen and right now, all across the western portion of the province, most towns are experiencing historic snowfall, we’ve heard reports of up to 20 feet in just over a few hours in some areas…”
Over the next weeks and months, the snow doesn’t stop. And it’s happening all over the planet. Satellite photos show no end to the phenomenon. The National Weather Service and meteorologists all over the globe are baffled, but one thing is clear: Something has happened, some change in the planet’s metabolism.
We see vignettes of small problems first: Neighbour is pitted against neighbour on the narrow streets to find a place to put the white stuff; To keep habitats from becoming completely engulfed and unusable. Power systems begin to fail as they are unable to be repaired in the low temperatures, heavy precipitation and driving winds.
Eventually, the whole human system would break down. Manufacturing would cease, governments would fall, the whole socio-economic structure would collapse. We would be creatures of a Hoth-like planet, doomed to find a way to harness the resources of our now frozen world.
We would rebuild but would we find a new morality? Serling’s half smile makes him appear as though he partly expected it; Partly thinks we deserve it.
OR…
We seek the help of the U.S. government to assemble a hot-shot team of experts and atmospheric scientists including one darkly handsome meteorologist and a beautiful young climatologist and — even though he is damn arrogant! — they fall in love and are the only ones left to repopulate the planet. But one day they wake up and the sun is shining. It’s over.
It’s becoming clear the snow is having an effect on me. I’ve heard of people in the arctic succumbing to snow blindness. I think I’m going snow-crazy.
