1956, Clark Cambell and me outside his house, we lived in the same tract. It was the best snow-fall since we moved to the Antelope Valley. You couldn't see the streets. The snow went from one yard to one across the street with out a hint of street. Yep, we were ornery, we made a small snowman and for his head we packed a big rock with snow. We then went across the street to Sandra Pott's house and propped it against the door. Ran back across the street and each thre a snowball at their front door. Sounded like a knock. Her dad opened the door and muttered something then kicked the head... his next mutter was much loader. No sense of humor.