As I (we) dig out from the Blizzard of 2013, aka "Nemo," I can't help but think back to the Blizzard of '78. Thirty-five years ago, today. I turned 16 during the Blizzard...and I turn 51 tomorrow. It feels like a short time, but things are so different. The one thing I do know, even with the amount of snow we got yesterday and last night, is that the Blizzard of '78 will never happen again.
That Blizzard, for as much as we think about the snow, wasn't about the snow. It makes for cool pictures. It's the basis for all the stories. But it wasn't really about the snow.
It was about getting caught while we weren't looking. All of us. We were blindsided. No multi-million dollar weather tracking, no internet, no satellites...just one big surprise. We were in it together.
It was a time when we had a lot less, so we complained less and helped each other more. We could have complained a lot. But who would've listened? And how? If it were today, the noise would be deafening. But there was no illusion then that anyone was listening. We relied on each other. We took care of each other. We stayed in places we never would have ever thought we would...we stayed wherever we could, and we welcomed each other.
It was about the world stopping for a week. That's why we laugh when we hear, "Bread and Milk!" It's because delivery wasn't what it is today. When the trucks couldn't get through, we went without. A lot less was stored, so there was less at the store when the trucks could actually get there. We had to share to make it work. And we shared.
It was about getting to know neighbors that you had no time typically to get to know. It was about grabbing a shovel and pitching in. It was about getting out and giving a hand. It didn't matter to whom. How many trips to the store were made? How many times did the sled get pulled to the store and back. And we walked. Together.
It was about, in my neighborhood, all banding together to look for an old man who had gone out in the middle of the storm and had never come home. It was about 15 to 20 kids walking that neighborhood with broomsticks and poles held upside down and poking every snowbank. It was about the fourteen year old girl whose broomstick came up about eight inches short. And the tears and the panicked look. She couldn't text her friends, or post her thoughts online. It was about how we all talked her through it as we walked her home.
It wasn't the same as today. It won't ever really be duplicated.
We romanticize the Blizzard not for the snow, but for the stories that we all treasure. And we all have them. Because it was a difficult time that brought out the best in us. How do I know? Because there's a lot of snow out there right now. I have close to four and five foot drifts in my yard...and it's not the same. It's not the snow.
It was community. I don't know what it will take to replicate that again, but it won't be something we can forecast. It will be something we don't see coming.
I think I can wait on that one.
Happy Shoveling!!
