December 19, 2009
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It's snowing!
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0 hit(s)
I went looking through my blog for snow stories, as I sit here occasionally looking out the window on what will be the snow storm of the century here in the Washington, DC area. Now, of course we're only a few years into the century, but it sounds good to say so.
The story I was looking for isn't there (and so I'll write it, although I know I have already—somewhere), but I did come across a gorgeous poem I quoted a couple years ago. Even if you don't like poetry, give this one a try.
In just the few times I've scanned the view outside my window, I've seen:
- Some workers from southern climes paid to clear our sidewalk. They began just as the snow storm began in earnest, and although they did a fine job, by the time they had finished the sidewalk on this side of the building, it was nearly covered again. I haven't seen them since.
- Someone across the street evidently felt he just had to go somewhere, and spent about a half-hour digging his car out from the drifts around it.
- On a more alarming note, my neighborhood is home to a few wheelchair-bound folks who have whichever of the diseases makes you unable to speak or walk or do much of anything but control a lever on your wheelchair that makes you go forward, left, right, and, I presume, backward. By the time I looked out the window, one of them had ventured beyond the covering of his apartment building, and was stuck in deep snow just feet away from said building. Four or five guys had gathered with a couple shovels, and were digging out a way for him to get back but, oh my god, what was he trying to do?
About 25 years ago, Shira and I were living in our Aloha St house in Seattle, having recently left our 8th Ave NE house, then occupied by Shira's brother and sister-in-law. I see now via Bing Maps that the distance is 8.5 miles.
We had moved pretty much everything out of the 8th Ave house, but on this day of which I write, I discovered that I hadn't bothered with the car chains. We were beginning what was predicted to be a goodly snow storm, and experience had shown us that the little Honda did best in snow when it was wearing chains. The city had already closed our street to traffic (its slope resembles a ski run, and was used as such by hardy folk), so I left the car at the house, and that morning accompanied Shira to her bus, which normally took her the approximately two miles to the university, where she was still a student.
We waited on the street up from our house, at the bus stop near Aloha. After a certain amount of time, we realized that there weren't going to be any busses.
So, I walked with her to the university, figuring I'd pick up a bus from the U district, which is much flatter than our neighborhood. And that proved the case. I boarded my northbound bus, as the snow continued to fall and in good quantity. The bus got about two blocks before it came to stop. Not only was it one of the few busses running, but it had been fitted with a kind of chain as it left the bus barn. Maybe not well-fitted, however, because the chains had come off. One of the male passengers and I got off and put the chains back on, to the best of our ability. And so the bus and its frantic passengers (not many) made its way north along 15th Ave NE. At the stop nearest to our old house, I got off and made my way through a little forest to the old neighborhood, where I retrieved the chains (which I draped around my body), and walked the few blocks back to the bus stop. A middle-aged woman sat on the bench, and a black gentleman about my age stood nearby. He was amazingly similarly configured to me. We both had on military field jackets (which have a built-in hood), and we both had chains draped over us. Turned out, we were both Vietnam veterans, too (the source of the field jackets), and both had similar stories about what we were doing so far from home on a very inauspicious day.
I had seen the bus make its return trip and pass that bus stop two blocks before I reached the stop, and after a half-hour or more, we three realized that there would be no busses today. In fact, that troubled bus I had boarded in the U district was the last on the road for a couple days (Seattle had no snow removal equipment).
We had learned that the woman was only going a half-mile or so down the road, so we offered to escort her. Having no other obvious alternative, she took us up on the offer, and we succeeded without incident. My new buddy and I both had at least 7 miles yet to go, but we were young and despite the snow, I don't recall it being especially cold, so the whole trip bacame an adventure. We would walk a block or two, help someone get his or her car back on track, and then walk another block and repeat the experience.
As we walked, we traded stories. And the snow continued.
When that 7 miles was up, our paths diverged, and I think we both knew we'd had quite an adventure. Although we never saw each other again (perhaps never even exchanged names), there's a very special bonding that happens when two or more folks find themselves in adversity and discover that the experience is easier because each is not alone.
That was probably the winter that part of Shira's family was coming to Seattle for some holiday, and I do remember hauling a car-full of people around on the snow. Thanks to my chain-equipped Honda.
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