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Winter used to cast such long shadows along the buildings.  It always made it seem like the day was almost over when we left school. Earlier today, it snowed all of what seemed like a few feet while we were all inside. Of course, we were pretty excited.  The snow games we played on the way home always wound us all up and we usually ended up choosing sides and having the battle of the century on both sides of Fifty-ninth Street.  Mike and Albert were usually the captains of the two teams in all of our sporting events; seeing how both of them were the most athletic.  On this one particular day, it was to going be different.  Today, the rules, as we knew and understood them, from this day forward, were going to change.

We huddled one by one in the usual spot as we exited the school.  Our whole Quasi-Chinese-Jewish-Norwegian-Brooklyn-Red-Neck gang was all assembled within ten minutes and we were ready to start our after school travels; the journey up Fifty-ninth Street.  Being one of the most unathletic members of the bunch, I always grew fearful of when the snowball fights were going to break out.  It was not that I was not capable of throwing a snowball at another person, it was that the fact that when the snowballs penetrated my fifteen layers of cotton-polyester-nylon-down protective coating, it really hurt.  And these guys threw hard.  I mean when the snowball hit me in the torso, it made a cracking sound one can hear about two city blocks away. And that would be the case, but unfortunately, it was a fact that my torso was not the body part that always got struck.

We traveled about only one city block before someone flung the first snowball.  No one was hit, but we all scattered and took to our own hiding spots.  I quickly made a snowball with my mittens.  I hated mittens for this one reason:  Manual dexterity was not my strong suit.  One by one, we each peeked out to see who threw the first one.  Obviously, the person who threw the first snowball would get the first flung at him.  After a few seconds, an air of bafflement grew among us.  We all crouched with snowballs cocked in pre-throwing positions and the initial launcher was not identified.

Suddenly, another snowball was fired at us.  We all turned to witness the outrageous phenomenon.  Our jaws dropped.  We looked to each other for guidance and we quickly huddled back together behind snowbanks and parked cars.  To our dismay and terror, across the street was another Quasi-Chinese-Jewish-Norwegian-Brooklyn-Red-Neck gang.  It was obvious to us that this was hostile territory takeover.  It was also obvious to us that we could not, and would not, back down.  We all knew this day were to come someday.  All of us knew, but none of us suspected that that day would be today.

Albert and Mike drew out the battle plans and we had nothing but adrenaline and pure fear to guide us.  We were going for the all-out-cross-the-street-ammunition-ambush technique.  This time, it was for real.  We knew this.  We grew quiet for a second, looked at each other for what seemed like could be the last time.  Knelt in prayer.  Looked both ways before crossing.  Counted to three.  And, like in thunder, we jumped out of the barricade, charging and yelling, and firing our snowballs like never before.

I remember it like it was in slow motion.  There were snowballs everywhere.  Snowballs firing at us.  Us firing back.  People were getting hit everywhere.  It was a massacre.  Oh, the horror.  For heaven’s sake, we were only boys…

 
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