The Storm…that’s what was on everyone’s mind. As often happens, it wasn’t nearly as bad as forecast, but bad enough.
For me, it played out this way, five or six inches of snow, coming down all throughout the morning and afternoon, finally clearing off at four in the afternoon.
For about two hours, we had the dreadful experience of losing power. Dreadful, no TV or internet for nearly two hours! We had heat, the woodstove was cooking. We had the light of day, but still, two hours with no power.
At four, with the snow ended, we could begin to clear the driveway and reconnect to civilization. It’s a pretty long driveway to clear, nearly six hundred feet. The snow blower groaned under the heavy snow, the melty parts at the bottom sometimes clogging up the chute. It took nearly ninety minutes to get the driveway open.
I don’t much like the pioneer life, being snowed in for almost a whole day, unable to get to work, braving two hours of power loss. It made me cranky.
I did give some thought to others. There was much talk on Facebook about others suffering much longer than us without power. No heat in the house, no way to get out, no way to cook dinner. And I thought about my friends in Norristown. With the Hospitality Center closed because the employees couldn’t get in, where would they go for breakfast and warmth? The lunch program was closed for the day, the volunteers were unable to make their way in. Were my friends there hungry?
On the day after the storm, I was able to get to work, without delay or incident. The Hospitality Center was open, and I settled in to talk with my friends. I assumed the talk would be about the storm and all of the hardships that it caused. I was only partly right.They shrugged when I told them that there would be no lunch again today, as the volunteers were not comfortable with driving on the icy spots that were predicted.
There was just a wee bit of complaining. Several talked with gratitude for the opportunity of making good money shoveling snow, even though it was much heavier than normal. By the way, this is shoveling with a shovel, not like my snowblower. One wished his shoes weren’t ripped. “Wet feet are the worst,” I said, although mine were dry inside of insulated leather. His were cheap and ripped sneakers, revealing soggy socks.
A few laughed a little when I asked about losing power, and I knew why.
Blessed are the poor. They don’t complain about little things like I do.