There’s
nothing like a good snowstorm to literally clear the air. When a big one like the Blizzard of 2015 hits
the Northeast it doesn’t just wreak havoc and cause chaos. It actually causes calm and quietude, albeit
briefly. It puts us on the same page,
cleansing our busy lives, forcing us to pause.
For the first time in a long time I found a way to embrace, even love
snow again.
As a
child living in an apartment building without a car, big snows didn’t mean what
they do today. As an adult homeowner
with a driveway and a busy, scheduled life. I of course worry about cleanup, andmaneuvering around piles of snow, getting to work, avoiding dangerous road
conditions and hoping to avert a power outage.
But I realize none of it is in my control. Time to just cede power to Mother Nature and
embrace, rather than fight, what comes my way.
I’ll
still have to shovel, clean my car, and work around the storm – but I will also
allow myself to play with my kids, make a fire, and hunker down with some
Netflix-presented fare. I’ll also read a
book.
Most
holidays, vacations, or days off are planned for and usually involve family
fun. But snow days come randomly and
force us to go nowhere but the limits of our home. We hunker down and peer out the window,
thankful we can wait it out and not have to battle the elements.
On
Sunday, January 25, I became aware of the impending storm, one in which the
mayor of nearby New York City predicted could unleash a record snowfall. All of a sudden I got both anxious and
excited. I decided Id prepare for it by
going food shopping – and then I'd just let the snow fall where it may.
In the
early evening at around 5ish, I drove to Stop and Shop and discovered my neighbors
were on the same page as me. Luckily the
store was stocked up on all essentials like milk and my real needs – chocolate
and BBQ chips. People acted sanely and
decently even though a bit of fear and tension was in the air.
No one
wants to come home empty-handed and everyone wants to think they’re pro-active
and are doing something of importance.
We should control what we can, but never really seriously think we can
control much.
While
the television and radio news broadcasts feed their ratings with dire
predictions and desperate pleas to stay home, people still need to lead their
lives. Still, that said, you start to
get into a psychological tunnel and everything narrows through a thin ray of
light. It’s easy to group-think
something bad is happening but we must counter it with reason and hope.
On
Monday, January 26, my work colleagues and I made it into work, knowing we’ll
leave early and possibly not meet again for a few days. The fear of the snowfall kind of unites
people. We get focused on the same thing,
at the same time– something that is rare.
But it’s moments like these that force strangers to talk to one another. It brings out the compassion in many.
By early
evening, I headed home, learning that within four hours the last trains would
leave Grand Central Station. Metro North
was shutting down. You don’t see that
too often.
What if
the storm turns into a fraction of what the meteorologists predict? I would never bet on what those idiots
say. Would we be disappointed if the
ugly expectations aren’t realized?
What if
the storm proves worse than any such prediction and ends up causing problems
like roof cave-ins, car accidents, and loss of power, property, and lives? Would we further our fear of storms?
What if
it delivers as expected – and we survive as expected? Will it make us stronger for it? Will we feel
in a common bond with each other?
Whatever
happens after a storm, we move on, and go back to our lives of competition,
isolation, and self-obsession. The
storm’s lessons melt away with it.
But for
a period of time, some 24-48 hours, we were humbled and given a chance to find
ourselves on a collaborative mission. We
were all united to deal with the singular storm.
I don’t
know why but I always think that a storm is the perfect time to commit a
crime. Everyone is locked away home and
stores remain unguarded. The overworked
police tend to storm damage -related stuff and aren’t cruising for
burglars. Since no one is on the street,
there are no witnesses to see a crime, no heroes to thwart it. As the snow flows artfully onto the vacant
streets a savvy thief could poetically commit any number of crimes without a
concern for getting caught.
I
remember some of the biggest snows in the area’s history, the biggest being one
in 2006. Another, in 2003, was tremendous. I was turning 10 and 11 during the blizzards
of ’77 and ’78. I prefer snow storms to
blackouts, hurricanes, and other seasonal disasters that can befall us. When the snow comes one can only smile and
think back to the glee they felt as children, for the little white powder is
like candy falling from the sky. I just
want to lick it all up!
As we awoke on Tuesday, January 27, many of us found that the weatherman once again
got it wrong. Some got a foot or less –
far from predictions of historic totals.
But Long Island got two feet and Boston the same. Some parts of Connecticut hit a meter’s
worth.
The
cleanup and recovery period was up and running.
Kids take to nearby hills with plastic discs to go to make-shift
tubing runs. Adults get their shovels
out and survey for property damage.
After
digging my car and house out for a solid hour, I did the next most important
thing, with my wife: We took our dog to the dog run, where fresh sheets of snow
awaited her. This five-year-old English Bulldog
loves to romp in the snow. It’s her
beach, her Paris.
The
roads were cleared in exceptionally good fashion and speed. We drove about two or three miles to Ward
Acres in New Rochelle. As we pulled up
to the front entrance, we didn’t see any cars and wondered if it was
closed. Upon further inspection we
noticed a sign indicated we were in a snow emergency route spot. We parked across the street at a closed
neighborhood elementary school.
Daisy
couldn’t wait to get to the park. I
could feel her tugging me forward as she snarled with snorty anticipation. So many wonderful sounds come out of a
creature that can’t talk. But she can
communicate her wishes.
She took
off once we got to the gate, having labored through a football-field size
lead-up of untouched, deep snow. We
spotted a pair of snow-shoers and their dog, and gravitated towards them. One other guy with his dog was there. It’s as if we were the only survivors of a
post-apocalyptic scene. But then a
handful of other hound-lovers joined in and it was party time for these hearty dogs that were in lockdown until the storm passed.
After
about 20 minutes of continuous, unrelenting dog-chasing, butt-sniffing,
snow-eating, and pooping, Daisy was still going strong. The squatty little girl was shorter than the
ones who braved it at the park and her pushed-in nose causes heavy breathing
from the slightest bit of movement. Her
tongue dangles outside of her fat-folded face and drags along the surface of
snow drifts. She was happy.
My wife
spotted a video camera on a tripod and suggested it could be a news crew. I
thought it was just a random stranger filming a winter scene.
As we
walked slowly towards the trio we didn’t think much of them. Nothing was happening. But then a few minutes later a tall man
lumbered towards us wearing a CBS news jacket and hat, microphone in gloved
hand. We made small talk and found out
the reporter, Tony Aiello, actually lives nearby. It looks like he drew the soft
story stick for the day.
As our
banter continued on he suddenly put his microphone in front of my wife and
started asking her to say and spell her name.
He then asked her questions about our dog. As she spoke I started to think about what I
might say but nothing in particular came to mind.
As she
finished talking he moved on to me, asking me if I looked forward to coming to
the dog park and if Daisy enjoys the weather.
I delivered a good line in one take about how she loves the snow and
that it’s her doughnut.
I knew
we would make the cut, even as he interviewed others. We had Daisy going for us. The brindle dog looks like a small pig. How could you not put her on TV? She sewed the deal when she ran up to him,
all snow-covered, trying to eat his microphone.
After
telling friends and family to watch Channel 2 News, WCBS at five o’clock, I
felt disappointed when the hour-long show didn’t feature the story. I feared
we’d been replaced by another story the reporter had done in the town next to
us, showing kids tubing down a neighborhood hill.
How
embarrassing and frustrating it would be if we were denied our 15 seconds of
fame! I started getting emails from
people saying they didn’t see us on TV.
I told them we might make it on at 11:00 pm, but I had my doubts.
The
higher-rated, but shortened 6 o’clock news came on and I let it be my
background noise while I tended to other things. Then, suddenly, at 6:15, I heard an
introduction to a story that sounded like it could be mine.
I
quickly yelled to my kids, wife, and dog to come to the TV and listen up. The Feinblums were getting some screen time!
The
minute and ten piece was great. It
opened with a scene of Daisy chasing a dog through the snow. Then my wife, Laura, was featured, and then I
spoke for a few seconds. It closed with
Daisy munching on the microphone, her scrunched face filled with snowflakes.
Not that
long after I found the clip and started sending it to everyone, even our local
mayor, who wrote back with appreciation.
I know
in the scheme of things that this public airing won’t change the world or contribute
to anything significant, but for a few moments we were able to celebrate the
things that matter most to us – enjoying a day out with our family and loyal
pet. The snow day may have forced us to
slow down and take a break from our busy lives, and though some were
understandably frustrated by it, it was exactly what we needed.
Here is the TV clip: http://newyork.cbslocal.com/
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