It's funny how in this August heat and humidity my mind turns to snow, ice, and blizzards, but that is just what it has gone and done. I was talking on the phone with my brother Howard yesterday to see how things are going out there since they plan to move and be nearer their son's family in Idaho. He said he was in the process of losing some weight and for some reason I mentioned to him that I remember seeing a picture of him standing rail thin on a snowbank in the folks' yard when he was a college student. Of course, I used to look much slimmer back in those days, too, but it was the depth and quantity of that snow in the picture that struck me the most.
I think the photo was taken by our mother in the spring of 1966 when we had such a terrible blizzard in early March which shut the whole state of North Dakota down for three days and left mountainous snow drifts in its wake. Dad was attending a meeting someplace and could not make it home which left Ma alone to fend for herself during that time. I was teaching in Bowdon, ND, and I and my roommates were mostly housebound for the duration of that storm. The night the storm began to blow had found us at someone's house so we were surprised to see the heavy snowfall when we left to go home. The wind was kicking up heavy drifts already, and I realized I would not be able to drive my car all the way. I had gotten to the front of a church near where we lived and parked on the south side of a large brick sign on its front lawn. Fortunately, I found after the storm ended that the sign caused the snow to part, (insert an image of Moses on the Red Sea here) and my car stayed clear of snow for the entire time. Many cars were completely buried in town town and often only a radio antenna could be seen sticking out. When the wind died and the sun came out, we found streets completely filled with drifts, so much so that National Guard front end loaders came in to help clear them.
That storm made a deep and lasting impression of those of us who experienced it. I have a book titled One to Remember: The Relentless Blizzard of March 1966. Obviously, the two authors, Douglas Ramsey and Larry Skroch, were deeply affected since they went through the work of compiling memories of the storm in a written form of 661 pages from family stories and photos and state newspaper archives. I read where my cousin's wife, Eileen Larson, near Lisbon was reported to have climbed a snowbank and stepped down on the garage roof and shoveled four feet of snow off the building to keep the roof from caving in. She stated it was touching the hi-line wires in their yard and that it was not safe for their son to play out due to the danger of snow cliffs which resembled the needles of the Black Hills. My aunt, Lorraine Devitt, worked at her job in the nursing home in Lisbon for over 30 hours before she could be relieved to go home and rest.
Story after story, hundreds of them, are recounted in the book. Since that storm I have been a great respecter of their power and fury. Each winter I make certain the trunk of my car holds lots of survival gear. Those hard times might come again when I least expect them.
