Kara was 5, and Steve was 8 and it was almost comical to watch them as they trudged to school, struggling up and over the mountains of snow that the snowplows left. Yes, they will have stories to tell their children about having to walk to school after “The Blizzard of ’78. But before they could return to school, we endured days of being trapped in the house where boredom and baking, along with endless TV cartoons were getting on everyone’s last nerve. When the streetes looked fairly passable, we bundled up, piled into the car, and my husband Mike drove us a couple of miles over to the home of a friend of mine, Nikki. She and I were in a volunteer singing and dancing group called The Entertainers. Their home was large and spacious, compared to ours. She had a wonderful playroom in the basement, where the kids could run and shout, jump, and twirl around, until they wore themselves out. After they settled down to a game of Candy Land, Nikki and I took over the play room to practice a dance we were choreographing for our next performance. We danced, laughed, twirled around and wore ourselves out. I have no memory of what the husbands did with their time, but an educated guess would be that they found a football game and a couple of beers to keep them occupied. That afternoon was the highlight of the blizzard for me, an afternoon of fun and friendship, release of pent up energy, and a change of scenery. Years later, I would discover the joys of being outside in the snow with a pair of cross country skis on my feet, but that was a whole different chapter in my life.
This morning, when I stepped out the back door to take Dora out for her morning piddle, I was shocked to feel the snow come up to the top of my boots. I had been warned the night before by a crystalline frosting over everything and a vicious wind, but this deep snow was beyond my expectation. I allowed Dora to pull me out just a few feet from the door, because I couldn’t even tell when we had stepped off the patio. For the next hour, I pondered about how I was going to deal with the next trip out, when it would be necessary to not only trudge through ankle deep snow but also to find and pick up what Dora would drop for me. Then I prayed. “Lord, Help me figure this out,”. then I heard that glorious sound of my next door neighbor’s shovel, as he cleared my front walk and my driveway. I used to take pride in shoveling myself, but even when I didn’t have a bad back, this deep and heavy snow would have been a challenge. I tried to open the front door to thank Ron once again, but I could only get it open a crack, as it was frozen shut. Then I swallowed my pride and accepted his offer to shovel my patio as well. He must have seen me doing it myself before, and he must have noticed the patch of grass that my friend Dan had shoveled the last time. But I was so grateful that he offered, so I didn’t have to ask. I thought I should do it myself. After all, he had already done so much. But considering my age and that I am to have back surgery soon, I felt that once again, my prayer had been answered. Not all of my prayers are answered, but this one will do for today. And BTW, after Dora had done her duty, I unhooked her leash and let her romp in the snow to her heart’s delight, a girl after my own heart.