By Chris Cosci

It's January in New York, which means we're right in the middle of winter. And you know what that means. Then again, maybe you don't. Apparently, a lot of people are being taken by surprise by this whole "snow" business. When people find out that there's snow in the weather forecast, they tend to go crazy. You'd think the weatherman predicted truck-size balls of fire to come crashing down from space.

Unless I'm mistaken, I remember learning about the seasons as a child. I can vaguely recall my teachers talking about the signs of winter, and I think cold weather and snow were included in the description. Maybe there's a new way of teaching seasons that hasn't been brought to my attention. "If you're watching baseball on television, it's probably summer. If you're watching football, it's probably fall. If you're watching golf, you really should get out more."

Nonetheless, you'd think that people would expect to see some snow in the winter. Yet it catches people off guard year after year. It's like an accountant waking up on April 14 and saying, "what do you mean I have to mail my taxes in tomorrow?"

People seem perfectly content during the holidays when singing about "dashing through the snow," "in the meadow we can build a snowman," and "let it snow, let it snow, let it snow." But when the flakes actually start to fall, a deep sense of panic and despair falls over the land.

Long Island therapist John Mince claims this feeling is partly primordial. He says, "we have been on this planet for a long time. But when confronted by storms, we are struck by how little control we have over some events. We feel much better when we can turn these events into stories."

And oh, what exciting stories they are! "There was, like, four inches of snow on my car. I actually had to use a large brush to push it off." "I looked out the window, and the snow was just falling all over." "I actually wore a scarf - that's how bad it was." Hearing such horrifying tales as this, it makes you wonder how we manage to survive these conditions every year.

But there is no better place to illustrate people's fear than the supermarket. Whenever a large amount of snow is predicted, the supermarket turns into a virtual war zone. People tend to shop as if they won't be able to leave their homes for at least six months, emptying shelves and running over slower shoppers with their carts to get the last container of milk.

The worst section is the bread aisle. The bread aisle typically looks like it was rummaged by a pack of wild animals. It's as if somebody said, "they're never going to make bread again - we have to buy it all!" Right before a snowstorm, I'm always concerned that I'm going to walk into a supermarket and find people lying in the bread aisle, their clothes torn from struggle, weeping softly as they scour the shelves for leftover crumbs.

Of course, the day after the storm, the roads are usually plowed and most people are able to shovel their cars out without too much trouble. Another ice age has been avoided, and people will spend the next three weeks eating nothing but bread. Meanwhile, somewhere in Alaska, a family is waking up to six inches of snow and saying, "hmmm… must be Tuesday."