Feb, 1978
With minor modifications, this story was originally written for the prompt Snow, in 2017, but it will be new for most of the current readers.
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The weather report called for snow, but none had come yet, so we all went to work; no call for alarm. It started snowing around noon on Monday. I watched from the sixth floor as the cars started leaving. I thought I’d wait a while, hoping the single-lane driveway would clear out a bit. Big mistake. Two hours later, when I decided to take the 18 mile drive home from Waltham to Acton along Rte 128 up to narrow Rte 2 through Lincoln and historic Concord, the roads were barely passable with creeping cars. The Blizzard of 1978 was in full swing.
I drove an ancient Valiant, no 4-wheel drive or snow tires, so driving was treacherous. I planned to stop at the supermarket a mile from my house, as Monday was my regular grocery day and I needed to shop. I arrived at 4pm and they were closing up. They told me I couldn’t take a cart, could only get what I could carry in my arms and be quick. I felt like I was in an episode of the old game show Supermarket Sweepstakes. I quickly prioritized what was essential and ran from lane to lane, got to check-out as they closed the store. It then took me an hour to drive that last mile home. Dan had been home from Cambridge a while. We checked in with his family, still living in the area. His mother, a teacher in Stoughton (south of the city), almost got caught in an historic back-up of cars, abandoned on Rte 128 (not unlike the backup in Virginia on I 95 in early January, 2022). She barely made it home to Newton. Everyone else was safe.
And home is where everyone stayed for a week. Governor Dukakis declared a State of Emergency and a travel ban. No one was allowed to drive or come inside Rte 128 for 5 days, so we all stayed put and watched the governor on TV with his wonderful sweaters. We got two feet of snow in 36 hours with white-out conditions. After, the weather turned fine and Dan and I went cross-country skiing next to our condo complex. It seemed like a lark.
The following year I had moved to Chicago, city of big shoulders and wind! In January of 1979 we were hit by a nasty blizzard. Again, two feet of snow and hideous winds. It started on a Saturday and lasted into the next day. But the weather did not turn fair after and the mayor and governor did not shut the city down. The weight of the snow was so great that roofs collapsed. I was glad that I paid a little extra money every month for covered parking. By that time, I had a VW Rabbit with front-wheel drive and thought I could drive through anything, though I usually took the bus around town. But after this blizzard, the temperature dropped to -18 with wind chill causing it to feel like -40! It was ridiculous. And we all tried to get back to work on Monday. Everything froze. Side streets couldn’t be plowed. I tried to take the bus to work, but each bus was full and humans dressed for work weren’t meant to stand on street corners in such cold weather (even if I lived two buildings from a bus stop). I finally got my car and drove to the office. Only the few people who lived in town got to work that day.
Mid-afternoon, it started snowing again and I headed home, dropping off the other two hardy souls who had also come in. They both lived on major streets, so I could get to their buildings. I lived on a one-way side street, off Sheridan. I had to go past my street, turn down another and turn up my street to get back to my building and the safety of my covered parking spot. I tried the first street. A car was abandoned in the street…and another, and so on. I finally turned the wrong way up a street, came down the street above mine – so close – and got stuck! My little front-wheel drive car was in too deeply and couldn’t get any traction. I hailed down four strong-looking guys and begged for help. They lifted my car out of the ruts, got it back into some tracks as I made the turn onto my street and I safely got home, vowing to not take my car out until spring. It was like that for weeks. The mayor was voted out of office.
The following week, others started coming back to the office. Stories about people going crazy from cabin fever were on the news. Many of the side streets were still in terrible shape. Two of our newer sales reps, friends since they had served in Vietnam, returned. They were big, strong Black guys who liked to tease us petite women in the office, but they were kind and well-liked. One was separated from his flight-attendant wife and had an adorable little girl who shared a birthday with me. He had been baby-sitting her the previous week. We were joking around as he left the office that Monday afternoon, rubbing my shoulders (yes, we still did stuff like that in those days), singing along to the radio to some sexy Rod Stewart music. He went home to get his suitcase, as he was heading to the airport. He lived on Addison, near the ballpark. The street was blocked by a car. He laid on his horn. Three people came out of the building, two men and a woman, high on cocaine. Darryl was a big guy and was vehement as he got out of his car to tell them to move the offending vehicle. One of the two men swung at him with a 2 x 4, knocking him down, the other stabbed him repeatedly. The woman stood in the doorway and watched. Darryl tried to fend off the blows but couldn’t, he dragged himself to the doorway of his building where he collapsed and died. This news greeted us as we came into the office the next day. We were stunned, numb, beyond grief. We all attended his funeral on Friday, and prayed that the criminals would go to prison for a long time, which I believe they did.
We were set to perform the Mozart Requiem on Saturday, January 24, 2015. We had a great dress rehearsal the night before. It started snowing mid-afternoon on the 24th, nothing big, but the mayor declared a parking ban and we were done. Concert canceled. The snow had stopped by the time we were due to sing that night and we only had about 4 inches of accumulation. What wimps! How disappointing. I went grocery shopping the next day, amid reports of a big storm coming on Monday. The grocery store was a zoo. Even with all our SUVs, you’d think we were hunkering down for hibernation. The next day, I tried to go my Pilates class in the morning (no snow in sight). My gym is in the same building as a Wegman’s grocery store. I drove around for half an hour and couldn’t find a place to park. I gave up and came home, put on an old DVD with a Pilates class…thoroughly disappointing all around (the DVD and my inability to find parking).
The storm, named Juno, started around mid-day. It was quite lovely. We didn’t need to go out. I took photos on my phone and posted them to Facebook, first at mid-afternoon, then later in the day. We got about a foot of snow; a real storm, but we were all around and about within a day or two.
But that winter was unrelenting. And cold. We never got a thaw, only melting cycles on the roof and we came to learn about ice dam damage…in almost every room in our house. We got unrelenting snow throughout the winter. In all we got 101 inches of snow. It was the snowiest winter on record for Boston. Ice dams are formed when heat from inside the house causes snow on the outside to melt a bit, then refreeze over and over again. We had icicles that came from the roof down to the ground and found their way inside any crevice or weakness in the roof or wall. It was raining along the recessed lights, window frames, down walls…tens of thousands of dollars of damage to the inside of our house that winter, as I described in my story Ice Dams, Feb, 2015. We have a slate roof. We finally had someone shovel off the roof carefully and crews from Minnesota (who had less snow than we had) came and used steam to clean the gutters free from the ice. Insurance paid for some of the damage and we put new insulation in the attic, heat wires in the gutters to keep them from freezing. and other measures to ensure that this never happens again.
Snow is lovely in small measures, but not when real damage is done.
Betsy PfauRetired from software sales long ago, two grown children. Theater major in college. Singer still, arts lover, involved in art museums locally (Greater Boston area). Originally from Detroit area.
Juno, cool name for a storm. Too bad about the damages, but hey, at least we learned to be intrepid when it comes to driving in snow and ice. High five.
The good news is, we are retired, so don’t need to be anywhere and can sit tight until we get shoveled out. It is always counterintuitive to turn into a skid, but that’s what you do.
Your story brings back many memories, albeit from the warm, if wet, perspective of being in So Cal. I particularly was interested in your stories of the winter of 1979 in Chicago. That was my last winter in Chicago, and I remember my car being completely buried all winter long on a side street in New Town. I had to take the El from Belmont down to Hyde Park, where I had to transfer to a bus to get to seminary. I’ll never forget freezing on the El platform and then waiting for the bus which never seemed to come while we froze to the sidewalk. Did we get together that winter? I don’t recall, but I know you might.
Steve, I also lived in New Town, on West Oakdale, but didn’t know you were there as well. We weren’t in touch in those days, but interesting to hear you memories of that winter. We should compare notes off-line.
You’ve given us a broad pastiche of snow experiences, from someone who has lived in snowy climes all her life. It brings back memories of snow days and snowstorms, before we gave that all up to move to California. But you also didn’t avoid the darker side of your story, the damage snow can do and the lives it can undo. Very sorry to hear about your friend.
John, it was unbelievable to think that Darryl died moments after we had been so playful with each other in the office. This was during the time when Dan and I lived apart and saw each other every second or third weekend. It was his turn to come to Chicago, but I was so stricken by this event, that he insisted I come back to Boston immediately after the funeral so he could cheer me up away from Chicago and all the misery of that city in that moment. It helped a lot. Thanks for your sympathy, even 37 years later. It was a horror.
Betsy, your snow-related troubles in Boston and Chicago were certainly annoying, scary and/or costly, but the story of your colleague Darryl’s death is tragic, it must still haunt you.
Darryl’s death was tragic and horrifying! It happened a long time ago, but it does still haunt me.
Knowing you were in Boston at those times, I was pretty sure that the winters of 1978 and 2015 would find a way into your story. As they did, but I much enjoyed hearing about all of your snow adventures. That said, as you note at the end, snowstorms are hardly all fun and games, and can cause real damage or, as with poor Daryl, sheer tragedy, albeit indirectly in his case.
Snow is beautiful if you don’t have to directly deal with it, or if you’re a kid and can go play in it. But if you are an adult and have to get to work, it can have terrible consequences.
Your 1979 experience in Chicago is also in my story. I remember that winter as being particularly awful. I’m sure you know they didn’t really plow the side streets and people would dig out a spot and leave folding chairs to mark their territory. I think it’s the same now, but we haven’t had that much snow in recent years (a bit of climate change?). Your story about Darryl is horrifying, but sadly sounds like something that could happen today.
I commented about that winter in my comments on your story, Laurie. Those side streets froze over and became impassable! Darryl’s death was traumatic for all of us in the office, but as you say, it could undoubtedly happen again today.
I’d never have expected a story about snow to get so dark and tragic. Life can turn cruel in an instant.
In the blink of an eye, Dave.
A close friend drowned in my freshman year of college. Sophomore year, another was murdered. No wonder I am such a fatalist!
Wow, Dave, you’ve had more than your share of tragedy too. My condolences.
So much covered in this story! It reminded me of stories from friends who went to school in Minnesota, where people routinely met each other helping dig each other’s cars out of snowbanks. And then in the middle, you tell us about Darryl, murdered by an enraged mini-mob presumably fueled by racism—a painful reminder that stress and snow does not necessarily bring out the best in us, especially if we don’t see that we are all in this together. As if we needed more reminders.
As I recall, Khati, the murderers were also Black. This was not a racist incident. They were just high and had nothing better to do and nowhere to move their car. Murder for fun? (There was also an incident of someone ramming his car into someone else in a gesture of road rage when he got stuck in a traffic jam, resulting in serious injury as I recall; that was on the news during the storm too. Lots of talk about cabin fever and people going crazy.)
As you point out, stress and being shut in does not bring out the best in us, as we are witnessing now.
Thanks for the clarification, though it still is a terrible story of how people can turn on each other in times of difficulty. Good to hear it didn’t appear to a racist attack—lord knows there are more than enough out there to make the presumption.
Yes, could easily have been a racist thing, but these were just stoned, loathsome people.
Betsy, I remember reading this story in 2017, and am surprised to see that I didn’t comment. I think I was so shocked by Darryl’s death that I had no words. It’s still shocking to me. Thanks for such vivid descriptions of three different blizzards.
Darryl’s death was shocking in real time too, believe me, Suzy. Horrifying, in fact. Three coked-up losers, who just killed someone for the fun of it and because they had no place to move their car. We were beside ourselves the next day when we learned about it. His funeral on Friday was so sad. I flew out to Boston to visit Dan right after. He really comforted me.
Yes, three monster storms, but very different outcomes.
Betsy, thanks for this well-written piece that takes me back to that blizzard of ’78 that I battled while living in St. Louis. Never seen so much snow at one time in my life, even during my 10 years in Boston. It was obviously a challenging time for you.
St. Louis clearly got the same weather system as Chicago, Jim. It packed quite a wallop. But “Blizzard Betsy” got two big storms in 12 months, the Chicago storm being much worse!
I think you have the worst snow story of all. Not only was it an unrelenting winter, but you lost a friend in a tragic way. So sorry about that loss, but your descriptions made for a engrossing story.
I didn’t mean for it to be a contest, but I did have two brutal snow storms in the space of 12 months, with one truly horrific event in Chicago. Darryl was a gentle giant, so sweet with his little girl. I can still picture him with her, more than 40 years after his early death. Horrible.