We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Yes!! I was 5-going-on-6, and we had just moved to Danbury, Connecticut. We had tunnels and little rooms under the snow, which I remember as being over my head. Those burrows probably would not be allowed nowadays, but it was wonderful. Of course I decided that that was what winter was always like in Connecticut, and was quite disappointed the following year.
Yes! I was 4 and I have a picture of me standing on 5 feet of snow with just 2 inches of the top of a five foot fence showing sticking out of the snow at my feet. I lived just North of Boston and we would typically get increased snowfall as a result of the effect of the ocean moisture.
The only people who get hysterical about snow are the retarded people on the TV news.
The part of TX where I live gets snow once every 5-10 years, and icy roads a little more than that. You can bet your bottom dollar that with snow or icy roads you will see incessant broadcasts of some TV personality freezing his toes at some freeway overpass near downtown. You would have thought the bomb had dropped, considering the coverage they give it.
The blizzard of '78 was something. It closed down institutions that hadn't been shut down in 100 years. With two feet of snow, TV coverage is more justified than with a dusting.
My NH-raised son now works in Houston. He finds TX snow behavior a hoot.
To be fair, he does notice that it takes New Englanders one first storm every year to get their sense back as well, and he's right. Even people raised here still act like fools until they get sense smacked into them every year.
As a Deputy here in WI, I know a bridge that I will visit every first snow of winter, as it ices up fast, and everyone will have forgotten that it has done that every snowfall for the last 30+ years, since it was built. After that snow, everyone remembers. People, we are silly creatures!
When 23 inches plus fell on Chicago in less than 23 hours back in 1967, we found ourselves hosting a dozen salesmen in for the furniture convention whose accommodations were given away and, thankfully, we had several roasts in the freezer. The youngsters ran to the corner stores for bread, coffee and whatever. Never did find our car, which had been parked on the street around the corner. The city finally had tow trucks clean up the side streets as serving the fire lanes and garbage pick-ups was getting dangerous. I think Dallas sent in some vehicles to clear the airport runways.
We survived and have had multiple bad storms since. Northern Wisconsin and some areas of Wyoming have not been pleasant memories.
Cheers to all those on the coast. As my grandfather used to say, "What God bringeth...." Stay safe.
My brother owns a Cruiser just about like that FJ. I'd hope the driver just felt trapped among the other vehicles, and didn't want to leave the road, rather than being someone who didn't know how to lock in the hubs.
That '67 blizzard was wild. I was attending U of IL and left around noon to play bridge in the Union. It was warm enough [low 50s maybe?] to wear only a long-sleeved shirt. I came out at midnight and it was about 22 and snowing like crazy. I like to froze to death walking the 10 0r so blocks to my rented room. Next morning there was 2 feet of snow on the ground and drifts 5 feet deep in places. Worst I remember.
I see there is a place for my story of the Great Blizzard of 1947:
Just before Christmas that year, my father's mom in Scotia, NY was feeling poorly, and he got the idea she was on her way out. So, in an effort to bond with his son and heir, we boarded a Greyhound (or Vermont Transit?) bus in Springfield, Mass. and took the 80 mile trip over the Berkshires. Grandma was abed, where she had spent her last 15 or 20 years, and we had a two- or three-day stay with in the big old house on Lincoln street.
When it came time to leave, uncle Erwin drove us to the bus depot and we waited for the next bus East. Dad bought me a red ballpoint pen about 4 inches long (they were hot stuff in 1947, you'll remember) and we boarded the bus about 8 or 9PM on Dec. 27.
That day and night, New York City accumulated 27 inches of snow. We drove right into the storm, trying to reach Springfield. The bus driver got lost. As I recall, we got to Springfield just before dawn, and got home by another bus in full daylight. I don't recall how much was on the ground at home that day, but it was a lot. It kind of put us off long bus trips for quite a while. Grandma lived a couple more years after a good long life.
O tempora, o mores - where are the snows of yesteryear?