In the eyes of the beholder
I didn't have it too badly Wednesday morning with the weather. School was canceled for my high-schooler, and my younger ones had a delayed opening that delayed my arrival to work. By the time I got them all settled, the roads were pretty clear.
Looking across Route 66 from the newsroom, I remarked to several people how beautiful the view was. The trees were encased in ice, glowing against the dark blue, cloudy sky backdrop. With the late afternoon sun cutting through, it really looked incredible.
Not everybody agreed with that opinion. Those who were still without power, those who were chilled to the bone because they had to dig the ice off their windows, and those whose 20- to 30-minute commutes took triple the time didn't share my view.
I guess it's all how it affects you that day. I really like snowy days in the winter and thunderstorms in the summer, but only when I can watch the wild weather from the safety of my home. If the power goes off, lighting candles and looking up and down the streets to see how far the outage goes is exciting for the kids. The last time the power stayed out, it was bedtime and we all camped in one room, which was fun. Kind of. Fortunately, it didn't last more than a few hours. The only time I can recall being without power for days (the 1992 nor'easter), I was a little more like some of my coworkers today, and not so enamored with Mother Nature.
Looking across Route 66 from the newsroom, I remarked to several people how beautiful the view was. The trees were encased in ice, glowing against the dark blue, cloudy sky backdrop. With the late afternoon sun cutting through, it really looked incredible.
Not everybody agreed with that opinion. Those who were still without power, those who were chilled to the bone because they had to dig the ice off their windows, and those whose 20- to 30-minute commutes took triple the time didn't share my view.
I guess it's all how it affects you that day. I really like snowy days in the winter and thunderstorms in the summer, but only when I can watch the wild weather from the safety of my home. If the power goes off, lighting candles and looking up and down the streets to see how far the outage goes is exciting for the kids. The last time the power stayed out, it was bedtime and we all camped in one room, which was fun. Kind of. Fortunately, it didn't last more than a few hours. The only time I can recall being without power for days (the 1992 nor'easter), I was a little more like some of my coworkers today, and not so enamored with Mother Nature.
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"I really like snowy days in the winter ..." -- Clare McDowell
In January of 1996 I was a senior in college. My aunt had died and I drove from New Jersey to Ohio to attend her wake and funeral. Unfortunately for me, my aunt chose to die just as what turned out to be the storm of the century was about to blanket much of the northeast United States under several feet of snow.
Being the smart guy that I was, I told my folks that I would pay my respects at the wake and skip the funeral that was scheduled for the following day. My plan was to race back to NJ before the 4 feet of snow that they were forecasting made driving all but impossible. I was about half way through Pennsylvania when a State Trooper informed me that the Governor had declared a State of Emergency and that I had to get off the PA Turnpike at the next exit. No one, I was told, would be doing much driving in Pennsylvania during the next couple of days.
About two miles after getting off the Turnpike, I passed a quaint, roadside tavern. From the smoke coming out of the chimney, I could tell they were putting the fireplace to good use. About a quarter-mile past the tavern was a dump of a motel with a sign outside that advertised "All rooms $39.95, all the time." As luck would have it, I got the last room. And thanks to an opportunistic and entirely corrupt desk clerk, I only had to pay $139.95 a night for the room.
As I was walking out of the closet that passed as the motel's lobby, three girls, also college students, were walking in. Like everyone else that the Trooper made exit the Turnpike, they were looking for shelter. I listened as the corrupt desk clerk told them that there weren't any rooms left. He then started to give them directions to the local school that would be serving as a temporary shelter during the storm. Being both chivalrous and entirely opportunistic myself, I half jokingly offered to share my room with the three girls. Two of the girls quickly said yes. The bookish, quiet one in the glasses, the one that would turn out to have the Catholic sensibilities, politely, and with only a slight look of disgust on her face, told me "no, thanks." She said it in such as way as to suggest that she was speaking not only for herself but also for her two friends.
Incredulous, her two friends pressed her into a huddle. I overheard a couple of the comments. "Are you insane?," the bookish one kept asking. With a little help from the corrupt desk clerk who kept mentioning that there were no other motels around, the girls relented and took me up on my offer. There would be, I was quickly told, a few conditions, most of which involved me agreeing to sleep on the floor with my clothes on. There were also a few not so veiled threats made about pepper spraying anyone that forgot any of the conditions, particularly during the night.
Well, as luck would have it, the snow came. And boy did it snow! The storm of the century must have dropped 4 feet of snow in 24 hours. Facing the prospect of eating our dinner from what we could get out of a vending machine, we decided to walk the quarter mile to that tavern down the road. To this day, I still thank God in his heaven that the place was still open.
We spent much of the next two and half days in that tavern, as did just about everyone else from the motel. My three roommates and I ate bar pies and buffalo wings to our hearts content. We played darts with the snow plow drivers and the state troopers that came in for coffee. We sang songs along with the juke box. And even though it violated the "no touching" rule, I even got to slow dance during a few of the songs, something I don't particularly like doing. But mostly we got drunk and sat around that fireplace talking -- talking about our lives and what we hoped for them. And somewhere along the line I fell in love with that bookish, Catholic girl with the glasses. In July we will be married for ten years. God willing, shortly after we celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary, that bookish Catholic girl, now my wife, will give birth to twins, our fifth and sixth child respectively.
Yeah, I am pretty fond of the snow myself, Clare. Thanks for letting me ramble.
Ramble away, that made my day. And just after I lost my love for Mother Nature. All car doors frozen except front passenger side made it tough to maneuver self and children into minivan before school this morning.
My husband and I (who met playing darts at a tavern, by the way) are having a belated Valentine's Day dinner after the kids are settled in tonite. We were going to make seafood, but suddenly I've got a hankering for chicken wings and bar pies.
OK, I can keep this one going. I don 't think it was 1996, maybe 1992 or 1993, there was an incredible snowstorm on a Friday in January. I lived in an Ocean Grove house divided into apartments and had become very good friends with my neighbor upstairs, Kristen -- one of the funniest people I've ever met, and always one to get you out of a blue mood by suggesting we do something out of the ordinary. I was supposed to fly out that day to visit my friend Jane in South Carolina for a week. Didn't happen. Airports were completely shut down.
I was sooo bummed. Kristen came down in the afternoon, about the time I was supposed to be flying out, and we hung out and drank coffee and watched TV, then the power went out in mid afternoon. "That's it, let's get out of here," Kristen said. We bundled up and trudged through mounds of snow, stopped at the Draughting Table in Bradley, warmed up, then headed to Kelly's for dinner and drinks. A whole bunch of people we knew had the same idea, and we had a blast. A friend with a four-wheel drive enabled us to travel home more comfortably to our building, where power had been restored. If she hadn't dragged me out of the house, I would've sat and sulked, but instead I had so much fun. Flew out two days later.
About 5 years ago, out of the blue we got a call from Kristen's husband. She had died that day of cancer, something very sudden that took her in a matter of weeks.
Thinking of her always makes me smile though, and memories like that -- us in our boots, gloves and hats trudging through mounds of snow and laughing the whole way -- briefly bring her back.
I see a best seller, Margaret! Your story was great. I love the "Once you go bald" line!
Thank you both for sharing your stories. Margaret, by all means, please keep writing!
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