A Threat of Snow-Why the Hysteria, People?
It was supposed to snow today, so a little light humor poking fun at myself and my fellow Northern Virginians…
I grew up in Atlanta where people freaked out at the slightest hint of snow or ice. I remember seeing Ogletree’s aisles (OK – I just dated myself) swept clean of bread, milk and TP and watching TV news reports of spinouts and crashes on 75 and 85 as people tried to navigate untreated roads. One of my favorite Deep South snow activities was my dad doing donuts in the same Ogletree’s parking lot. This being the late 70’s/early 80’s, my brother and I were sans seatbelts and pinging all over the car, laughing hysterically and begging dad to put our wood-paneled Ford LTD station wagon back into a spin. Ah, life before the safety police.
Fast forward many years and I found myself in Washington, DC snowed in with school canceled for a week while the region dug out of a foot or so of snow. It was the most snow I had ever experienced and I loved it. Again, I bore witness to decimated grocery shelves and as a then teacher, enjoyed my snow days with papers to be graded having been knocked out on snow day no. 1.
Two years after my week-long snowcation, John and I moved Chicago, a city where nothing has stopped for snow since 1979 when a mayoral election was won on a snow removal platform. In my only year teaching in Chicago, I discovered there was no such thing as a snow day. I also learned that no one, NO ONE rushed to the grocery store when it threatened to snow. I know this because the first winter morning I heard that snow was forecast, I rushed to the Dominick’s like a good little Dixie ex-pat only to be greeted by a gaggle of bored employees and a few homeless people escaping the cold.
After adopting a snow-obsessed dog and amassing a snow-worthy winter wardrobe, I was officially a snow addict and anticipated each snowfall like a kid in inside-out pj’s. Some friends and I partied our way through a blizzard one year and I never failed to marvel at the beauty of a winter landscape, like this photo of a frozen Lake Michigan as seen from North Avenue Beach. Alas, my inner-Inuit was not to last.
Lake Michigan as seen from North Avenue Beach, Chicago-February 13, 2008 by Amy Knebel
In 2011, we moved back East and I was once again surrounded by snow-hysterics. Yesterday, the National Weather Service started beating the frozen precipitation drum and the region collectively took to Twitter to fret about snow amounts, school closings and federal government telework. Me? I moseyed out to the garage and checked firewood. Plenty. I checked the wine. Plenty. Emergency bottle of bourbon? Check. We were set by my standards. Since we’ve lived in Arlington (10 months), we’ve already had two multi-day power outages due to storms (derecho and Sandy), so I have become rather blasé about roughing it.
This morning when the media commenced its screeching about how awful this evening’s commute would be, I decided to run a few errands and cruise by the Giant to see just what kind of shit-storm the parking lot had turned into. Sure enough, a packed parking lot and steady stream of circling cars alluded to the frenzy probably unfolding inside. Walking my dog around lunchtime, I ran into a few neighbors who chatted about their storm-prep. Huh?
Then the storm alert was downgraded earlier this afternoon. So stop the insanity, folks. Let’s go back to wringing our hands over the debt ceiling, ok?