Published on February 4th, 2011 | by Leonard Jackson0
Our First Blizzard
For only the second time in Kansas City’s history we had blizzard warnings this week and to the credit of the weather wonks (and the astonishment of their critics) they got it right. They even came real close to calling the hours it would start and finish. Who knew that was actually possible.
We’ve had larger snowfalls than the 8 to 10 inches most of us endured this time and even the 20 plus inches in some of the outlying areas, but we’ve never had an actual blizzard. And there is a difference. I think in order to be classified as a blizzard the wind has to be blowing 30 miles per hour or more (not positive about that) and heavy snowfall. Well while the folks in Fargo, North Dakota might get a laugh out of our blizzard, believe me, when the wind is howling and it’s snowing so hard you can’t see across the street we know what a blizzard is. It looks just like those news clips every year from Fargo, North Dakota when we sit here by our warm fireplaces and are so thankful that we don’t live in Fargo, North Dakota.
When you are home-bound of your own volition because of intemperate weather or possible dangerous driving conditions it is one thing, but when you are home-bound, I mean literally home-bound (you actually are unable to get out of the house home-bound) it begins to wear on you. You begin to imagine all sorts of dire emergencies that could and probably will occur. You cut yourself slicing limes for happy hour and bleed to death before help can dig you out. The power goes out and you sit there in your frozen living room, no TV and no reading lamp, and quietly freeze to death. The last thing you remember before you lose touch with the outside world is Al Gore’s comforting words assuring us that this is all going according to plan his climate control people have told him.
Mercifully this doesn’t actually happen and you fall asleep in a nice, comfortable bed only to wake in the morning to what was predicted and what you can see – snow drifted against the front door waist high and keeping the door closed to the mightiest shoves. But in just a few hours you are rescued; the snow against the door has been shoveled away and the walk cleared – you are free again. Free to walk outside where it’s -2ºF. In Fargo, North Dakota this happens every year. I’ll take our once in a lifetime, thank you.