Memory #20: Blizzard
On the television today I saw the words "Blizzard Warning." A closer inspection of the fine print revealed that the Blizzard Warning was not for us, but for our neighbors to the northwest, across the state line. But that word, Blizzard, always makes me think of the winter when I was eight. The snow drifts were enormous, and I don't remember the facts, but it must have taken my dad hours to shovel the four feet of snow off our driveway, only to have the end of the drive buried in another six feet of snow when the snow plows finally got around to clearing C.R. 1. It seemed like school was cancelled for a week. So we went sledding and made tunnels in the drifts and never once worried that anyone would make us make up lost school days in June.
1 comment:
Was this the same blizzard of '78 that my parents, from rural Ohio, always tell me about? They didn't miss any school (my parents are a little older), but they always talk about two things: how many days it took the snow plows to get around and how the county roads looked like snow tunnels when they were done, and about the baby boom in September of that year. I guess for parents and children alike, a good snow day means the same thing: catching up on things you'd rather be doing but just can't find the time for.
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