I miss you dad

It was my first year at McGill. My sisters had chipped in to buy me a huge red parka. We lived in Massachusetts, but I was going way up North. After all, a cold winter wind in Boston is known as the Montreal Express.

One morning, my dad calls me on the phone. I tell him about this huge snowstorm we're having up in Canada. I rave on and on.

My father's description of the Blizzard of '78 were these four words:

We had snow too.