After the first real snowfall we had earlier in December, many of my fellow students and I took to making snowmen outside our halls. Unfortunately, they all ended up melting or being destroyed after existing for a mere day on our wintery campus. These poor, condom-adorned, Sodexo-carrot-nosed snowmen existed for such a short period of time, and I wonder what they thought of us in their few hours of life. Luckily, I was out and about around campus during that snowy day and was able to snag an interview or two with these sad creatures. To make their stories as accurate as possible, I kept a log to record what it’s like to live a day in the life of a campus snowman.

Out of the 16 first-year residence halls, students from just four went out and made their own frosty friends. Beginning outside the first hall, I came across a snowman who was nearly put together. I got to witness him coming to life and it was quite the experience seeing as how everyone took pictures while he stood there and screamed. Once I was able to calm him down, he told me a bit about himself. For starters, he told me his name was Ralph, and had me write down that, and I quote, “My name’s not f***ing Frosty!” Ralph was quite the character and was pretty confused about the whole situation. Apparently, there was a whole argument earlier on with his creators over his assumed gender. After the debate, he announced that he goes by he/him pronouns and also that he hates Vermont. Ralph was destroyed later that day by students passing by and was not heard from again.

Next, I nearly walked right by a tiny snowman on my way to the dining hall for lunch. This little snow creature was paralyzed with fear of all that they’d seen on campus in just their first few hours. I never found out exactly what had happened, but I gather it was a traumatizing experience. By the time I walked back, all that was left was a pile of snow and a half-eaten carrot...I never even knew their name.

The next snowman was discovered standing outside a window while I was at a banquet in the Communications building. I had no way of introducing myself and no follow up on their status, but it’s assumed that they’d melted sometime in the hours after my findings. It’s hard to say now, but I thought I saw a hint of pain in those Ritz Cracker eyes.

The fourth and final snowman was found in three separate parts, with the outline of a large Timberland footprint on the side of his head. Apparently, he’d suffered his horrific injuries from a rowdy group of students who lived in the hall next door. He was struggling to stay alive. I took his left twig in my hand as he gasped out his final wishes, “Find the a**holes that did this.” He died peacefully in my arms just minutes later.

I can’t imagine just what these poor campus snowmen experienced in the hours of their short lives, but I’d like to say that I feel their pain. The next time you witness a college student round house kick a snowman’s head off, please intervene, you could save the life of a frosty friend who is near and dear to my heart.