Weathering the storm January 5, 2023
If I had any intention of going to Scranton this weekend,
the forecast of massive snow in the Poconos dispelled it.
In the past, such trips have always been scary, such as the
time I came back along Route 380 in a total white out and clung to the rear of
a tractor trailer just so I could see something ahead – even pulling to the
side of the road was not an option because the road was invisible, and I might
likely have become victim of other cars equally blind as mine.
There is a certain beauty in that trip, such as the snow
covered concrete factory I passed, the lights glowing amid the shroud.
For the most part, driving in snow scares me – even though I’m
better off with tires on my car these days then when I rode from the Ford Dealership
with my brand new Pinto back in 1976 and had to stop at a tire store on my way
back so they could install snow tires.
Working in Bayonne for many years was a chore as well,
especially on those days when the storm hit while I was there and I had to pick
a route to get home – most always taking JFK because even when not plowed, the
busy traffic cleared a narrow groove in which to steer my car.
These days, I don’t have to drive much with the light rail close
and I have no office I must go to daily.
We don’t expect much in the way of snow which will feed the global
climate change nuts who are convinced we’re all going to hell in a snow plow.
And this storm, even if we get more than a coating here in
New Jersey is coming late Saturday and into Sunday, which means the worst I’ll
have to worry about is whether I can get to the laundromat and the store near
it to check my lottery tickets.
I actually hope we get more than just a coating, if only to
watch that early part of the storm when we begin to see the world decorated in
white, unspoiled yet by the passing of cars or the stomp of people’s feet (I
wonder, do scooter shops sell snow tires?)
And for all of the dread of traveling the highways to
Pennsylvania, I kind of miss that, too, not the near death experience, but the
passing through the world when it is in transition – the bare limbs of trees
coated, the dying yellow grass stiff with white.
Of course, whatever we get will come too late to provide us
with a white Christmas, but then unlike the ELP song, we didn’t even get rain
for Christmas – which is what we got that Christmas Eve back in 1976 we were all supposed to gather at Jane’s
Mother’s house on the mountain top in Towaco, raining everywhere as the song
played, except when we got to the top where we stepped into the middle of a
Charles Dickens’ novel, complete with the old fashion lamps in front of the
century old houses and the long driveways where cars were invisible, and I kept
expected to see horse-drawn carriages.
Since we live in a house built in 1888, snow seems appropriate
and regardless of when it arrives, it will remind me of Christmas.
None the less, I’ll be picking up ice melt at the
supermarket tomorrow, just as the rest of our panic-nation will be. We thrive
on disasters and even with a mere coating, people will be stocking up on food,
ice melt and – toilet paper?
I never got the toilet paper bit, recalling how little there
was available during COVID when government forced us all to stay in our houses.
I guess everybody figured they will be bored and eating a lot, which generally
produces a byproduct that requires the use of massive amounts of toilet paper.
Anyway, had I been wiser, I might have asked Santa to give
me toilet paper in my stockings rather than the usual coal, Coal is forbidden
these days, as are certain kinds of Christmas lights. You have to love the
insanity, and how the lunatics have taken over the asylum. But as long as we
have enough toilet paper, we can weather any storm.
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