by Madison Marko – Op-ed Editor
Every holiday season our children huddle around the fire and stare outside, wishing desperately to be graced by the presence of small, white flakes falling from the sky. They, understandably, want to sled down a hill and be rebirthed by the cold air rushing by their pink cheeks. They also yearn to, less understandably, exercise friendly competition by pelting each other with snow and frolicking around.
Lastly, inexcusably, they want to build feeble versions of people. This outdated practice takes little to no creativity to produce, sets impractical body standards, and builds short-lived attachments that disappear in a puddle of the innocents’ tears.
Snowmen need to go.
Three balls, stacked one on top of the other, biggest on the bottom, smallest on the top. They are lifeless figures adorned with warm hats, scarves, carrot noses, pebbles for their mouths, twig arms, and beady black button eyes.
Everyone pictures the same thing. If a child wants to build a snowman, they will produce some version of this horror, joining the ordinary and applying no creative efforts on their part. People want to be inspired by snowmen, not subdued by mediocre garbage ushered into the world by everybody and their dog. There is no use for creators to waste away in the cold if they are providing no intellectual benefits for themselves or for those around them.
With this seemingly inevitable façade comes an unsettling body standard set on today’s youth. If these frozen forms are truly a representation of men, albeit portrayed in frosty form, children are brought into the crude reality of what we expect of people in society.
To succeed, to fit in, you much be cold, motionless, have three distinctive lumps, stick-thin arms, a grotesquely long nose, and soulless, unblinking eyes. These ideals are utterly unachievable and discourage our youth, as well as try to force them into molds they can never fill.
When they bring the snowman into the world, they also develop a close-knit bond with it—a bond that most definitely does not stand the test of time. As soon as the sun warms the brittle air, the end it near for the child’s cold companion. Their friend will slowly return to the ground, water dripping off its shell.
Losing this pal could be viewed as a positive, for it teaches them that nothing is permanent, especially good things, and relationships fade through time. These are sure to be the lessons people want to learn in their tender childhood years.
To protect our youth, we need avoid the traditional practice of snowman building. It has little intellectual benefit, creates unrealistic body standards, and teaches questionable lessons at a young age.