I Survived the Valentines Blizzard with both Ears and all my Fingers and Toes
Listening to the weather I often chuckle to myself, not actually about the forecast, but about the weathermen on the multitude of television stations that now proliferate the airwaves. When I was growing up in the 70s we relied on WCAX (about the only television station that we could get) for our weather forecast. Its ever-mild mannered weatherman, Stuart Hall, calmly told us the weather forecast the best he could, and without any fanfare or attempts at humorous antics.
Many of today’s weathermen appear a cross between a weather forecaster and an entertainer. Hate to say it, but although I still watch television weather forecasts, I often find some of the modern day forecasts as little more than hype, after all, when in Vermont is a half a foot of snow a “snowstorm”, or a thermometer reading of “0” considered an “arctic blast”? I don’t think good old Stuart would have thought those weather forecasts were anything more than ordinary winter days in Vermont. With that said and done, as I prepared for my week as a legislator in Montpelier (Tuesday through Friday), I heard warnings of a “blizzard” bearing down on New England. “Sure, a blizzard,” I laughed to myself. “More like we’re going to get several inches of snow.” I humorously figured the weathermen had gotten so bored, and probably feeling a bit guilty, about not being able to tell the Vermont ski industry and other snow enthusiasts that snow was on the way, they really needed to hype up this snowfall well in advance and hope for the best – for a lot of snow.
The weathermen were warning people to brace themselves for a doozy of a storm, and to make sure that they were prepared, especially if they had to venture out onto the roadways. They encouraged people to gas up, wear warm clothes, boots, and carry various supplies just in case they became stranded. Did I listen to the warnings? Absolutely not, well, with one exception. While I usually stay overnight in Montpelier once or twice a week, I typically stay on a whim, or when the day’s work goes far too long into the late afternoon. However, at hearing the news that we were suppose to be socked by a “blizzard” late Tuesday afternoon, although I was skeptical about the forecast, at the urging of my wife, who often has more sense than me, I rented myself a room for two nights – Tuesday and Wednesday - at my usual lodging establishment, the Hilltop Inn in Berlin.
I haven’t always made the best decisions in my life, but renting the room was one of my good decisions. By mid afternoon on Valentines Day, the snow was falling like I hadn’t seen it fall in years. When we walked out of the State House at the end of the day we were in the middle of a full blown snowstorm. I trudged through several inches of snow to my car wearing my slick dress shoes and light overcoat that did little more than break the wind. I had neither hat nor gloves. Needless to say, I hadn’t heeded the words of wisdom offered up by the weathermen to dress appropriately.
After a Valentine meal with my fellow legislator, Dexter Randall of Troy, in the restaurant attached to our hotel, I hit the sack and called it a day. When I awoke the next morning I decided to check out my car, well at least what I could see of it under the massive snowfall and snowdrifts. Although I’m not sure how much snow fell during the Valentines Blizzard of 2007, I suspect that we must have received upwards of three feet with drifts far deeper.
Finding a shovel in the hallway of the motel, I happily went about shoveling the snow from in back of my car, hoping that if I could get the snow from in back of the car I could back into a single plow path that passed through the parking lot. All the while I was wearing my dress shoes and overcoat, my feet and ears freezing from the wind and cold. But on a positive note, once the snow was removed from behind my little Subaru Forester, I backed right out even though the front end was still completely buried in snow. My digging was done, at least as far as my car.
Seems though I wasn’t the only Northeast Kingdom boy who was too tough, probably a bit foolish, and probably too skeptical of the weather forecast, to prepare for the weather. After warming up I went back outside to get something out of my car and the guy who owned the car parked next to mine was digging away hoping to free his car that was buried even worse than mine had been. He had begun digging using a waste paper basket before locating the shovel that I had used an hour or so earlier.
The man shoveling instantly recognized me as being from his home town of Derby. I looked at him and I didn’t recognize him, but I seldom run into a man standing in a snow bank, wearing sneakers, with a towel wrapped around his head to prevent his ears from freezing. Under the makeshift hat was John Guyette. We had traveled in the same sports circles when his stepson and my sons were on the same soccer team several years ago.
My feet and ears tried to tell me to wish John well and go back inside the motel to leave him to dig himself out. There was no way, though, I was going to do that. Impressed by John’s headgear, I told John I’d be right back as I dashed back to my room. I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around my head, much like John had done. But I added one touch to my head gear that John had not – a neck tie. I wrapped the towel around my head and secured it in place with the tie.
It didn’t take the two of us towel wearing Northeast Kingdom boys without hats or boots to dig the car from its snowy tomb. We actually had a good time, and we celebrated when, with me behind the wheel, and John standing in a snow bank pushing from behind, the car rolled free.
Sorry weathermen for doubting you, but ignoring you this time sure created some memories, and I still have my ears, and all of my fingers and toes. No disrespect to our modern day weather folks, but I sure miss Stuart Hall.