Column by Donna Cronk
The news people are ecstatic: a snowstorm is coming! It’s on the way! It might replace covid as the lead story. Now they will tell us where to go if you think you have covid in a snowstorm, and how to reduce chances of covid if you get stuck in a snowdrift. There will probably be a heroic rescue that involves both covid and snow.
Me? I’m nursing an abscessed tooth right now and the regular dentist won’t touch it—but referred me to an oral surgeon. The appointment is for Thursday but Brian called and pleaded snowstorm and pain—and got me in a day early. It’s only for evaluation. I hope we’re not one of those stranded-in-the-snow feature stories you’ll see on the news.
When you’re young, a big snowstorm sounds like folly and adventure. My dad drove a Union County school bus and we would get stuck at John Scott’s property on at least one occasion, and almost stuck many other times.
Why did we think this was the most exciting thing ever? Even I did, and I should have had nothing but empathy for my dad, who had to figure out how to get us out of the situation, and the rest of the route kids safely home.
I spent three weeks or maybe a month total during the winter of 1978 in Liberty on my brother and sister-in-law’s couch. You couldn’t get to the boonies of our family farm at Rural Route 1, Brownsville after all that snow. But I could get from Liberty to Connersville for my job most of the time. I sure was ready to be home though.
On the plus side, Brian and I were engaged that Valentine’s Day, ring and all, right in the midst of that winter of endless snow and drifting. It was a low-key engagement, but hey, we’re still here battling snowstorms together 44 years later. And for that, I am truly blessed.
Another time, when our sons were small, I took my mother home to Rural Route 1, Brownsville from a weekend visit to our house. I was to take her on Monday but word came that we were in for a huge snowfall so we returned early.
On my way back to Madison County, I hopped onto Interstate 70 at Cambridge City and the snow came down so heavy and hard that I literally could not see any lines on the highway. I was surrounded by white out my windshield. Semis continued to fly around me sending snow and ice onto it. One headlight blew out.
There was no pulling over—the snow was already tall and packed alongside the lanes. I gripped that steering wheel and prayed hard to get off that highway alive. I’m convinced that the Lord sent angels to help me because I had no idea where I was steering. Finally, I got off at a New Castle exit. This would have been in the early 1990s—no cellphones— and I thought Brian must be terrified about me!
When I got home, the kids were blissfully romping around the house and Brian was low key, watching them and I’m sure TV, and none of them had a clue of how bad it had gotten!
If you’ve been around a minute or two, you probably have your share of similar stories. I have more. But you get the picture. I haven’t even started on the ice stories! And those are scary on a whole different level.
It’s going to be rough out there for the rest of this week. Please stay home. Unless you have an abscessed tooth, in which case, be careful out there.
Union County native Donna Cronk is retired from a career at the New Castle Courier-Times. She now writes columns for three newspapers along with this news blog. Amazon just released her new memoir, There’s a Clydesdale in the Attic: Reflections on Keeping and Letting Go. She can’t wait to get snowstorms and tooth problems behind her and get out there and promote it.