20150127.0756

Against the news of the snowstorms in the Northeast, an account of an earlier such storm--one that lived up to its promise--suggests itself. I have made such comments before, and on this day, in fact...

The one that comes to mind for me is the Boxing Day Blizzard of 2010, about which I made some comments. The details of how much snow fell on The City and in how much time, and how long it took to remove enough of the snow that the outer boroughs of The City could function (because Manhattan gets cleaned quickly), are on record elsewhere; I need not repeat them here. But although I made a scant few notes about my own experience with the snow, there is more to say on that topic.

That year, that very week, was the first Christmas my wife and I had as marrieds. My most excellent wife had decided that, to mark the occasion, she would make a large Christmas dinner. I initially spoke against it, curmudgeonly ingrate that I am, saying that there was no need to go to the trouble, since it would only be the two of us eating it. She pressed on, anyway, and I was soon glad she did so. For one thing, she is an excellent cook, so that the meal was quite good. For another, we had much in the way of leftovers from it, which served us in good stead over the next few days.

Admittedly, holiday leftovers are a long-standing tradition with me. (I am, in fact, still eating candy from the Christmas just past.) The Mrs. and I would doubtlessly have been working through them for days afterward even had the weather been of the sort I have seen more than once for Christmas in the Texas Hill Country: 90F and sunny. (That is not a joke, by the way; I remember seeing my dad grill Christmas dinner in shirtsleeves.) But with the roads in the Best of the Boroughs shut down for the snow such that ambulances could not get through to rescue those whose medical needs would admit of no delay, the grocery store near Bedfordside Garden was not open, and we could scarcely have gotten there even with it being only a half a block away. (Crossing streets in the winter in the part of Brooklyn where we lived is somewhat challenging. Ice lurks oddly at the curbsides.) Having the leftovers in place, and in such a manner as would need little work to heat them (even had the power gone out, our stove was gas, and at worst, I could have used *my* grill, although I'd not have been in shirtsleeves), was therefore quite the blessing.

We ate the leftovers for several days as the snow melted and was cleared away at last. I recall that we spent quite a lot of time in our pajamas, as well, feeling no need to dress to leave the house when we knew we would not be doing so. (I do not often lounge about in such a way for so long. Even today, when I am relatively sure I will be inside at home for the whole day, I dressed, although not as if to go to work.) From what I have seen from my friends in The City and near it, such seems to be the standard practice; I wish them joy of it today and hope that things clear up soon.