Tim "Shoe" Sullivan. (Contributed)

Shoe Column: Winter is a bummer

By Tim “Shoe” Sullivan

I hate winter.

I had no use for winter as a kid growing up in Wisconsin, and I have no use for it now.

Wisconsin winters are known for snow, ice, and cold or freezing weather.

I don’t like any of that stuff.

When you get right down to it, what can you do outdoors in winter?

You can’t play softball. Or basketball. I don’t think people grill too much in winter. And golf is out.

Now, I do know some folks like to ice skate or even play hockey.

Not me.

My late father loved to skate, and he even played club hockey when he went to Notre Dame.

I could never get the hang of ice skating. Let’s put it this way: When I was a kid, our backyard could’ve been used for ice skating. Also, the next-door neighbor’s parking lot was always iced over, and it bordered the backyard of Frankie Paukert’s, and Frankie skated there frequently.

In the summer, from my door to Frankie’s was about a 30-second walk.

On skates, it took about a half hour because I was always falling down.

Weak ankles, probably.

Every now and then as a kid, some of us would head over to Goerke Park to skate. All I remember is smelling hot coffee in their warming house. I never actually skated more than five minutes.

When someone would ask me to go skating with them, I’d say “Yenny Ko Honey,” which I think is Polish for “Hell no!”

Sometimes my childhood friend George Glodosky would invite me to play ice hockey with some guys from the neighborhood.

I refused to wear skates. I only wore boots on my feet, so they made me the goalie.

In the winter, a guy could always ski jump. Like at Iverson.

Not a chance.

Or better yet, a kid could go to Iverson Park and use their toboggan slide. That thing never made sense to me.

So you’d start from the top of the hill and slide all the way down, hoping you came out still in one piece.

Then you’d have to walk all the way back up the hill. Does that sound like fun to you?

Same thing with the Elk Street hill. Sure, you could get a sled and slide down the hill for maybe five seconds.

Then you needed another ten minutes to climb back up the hill.

Ice fishing was another option.

The first time I tried it was when I went with my Uncle Bill. He had one rule, and ONLY one rule.

Bill said, and I quote: “Timothy, do NOT ever step in a hole in the ice!”

Five minutes into the trip, I stepped into a hole. Almost froze my foot off. That ended the ice fishing for that day.

My uncle took me ice fishing once more. Actually, about two years later.

We got out on the ice. I was freezing. I brought out my pole and a stringer. He looked at the stringer and asked: “What’s that?”

“It’s my stringer,” I answered. “It’s for all the fish I catch.”

My uncle said: “Well, put it away. I’ve seen you fish, and I don’t think you’ll be needing that.”

And he was right.

I’d put my line in the hole and would fish. And my bobber would never move. Never. And ice would form around the bobber and the top of the hole.

So I’d have to scoop out all the ice. With a frozen hand. It got so bad I knelt down next to the hole and blew on the bobber just to see if it would ever move. And it never did.

I hated ice fishing.

I never made a snowman. Too cold to be outside.

I did not like snow or drizzle or ice or blizzards or snow plows or freezing temps. Welcome to Wisconsin.

And I never ever thought about moving to somewhere warmer.

Because there’s always spring!

And that means another winter is over.

Which is fine with me.