Remembering the “Blizzard of 78”

Remembering the “Blizzard of 78”

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Will I ever be found or find my way out of here? The falling snow had covered my tracks and I couldn't remember where I turned right or where I turned left. The walls of this snow covered trench are high and shear - don't sneeze, it could all tumble in on you. I am losing daylight and the winds are picking up, survival for long in these conditions is highly unlikely. A sound, a voice… a human voice! Hypothermia must be setting in, it has to be a hallucination for it sounds like, of all things, my mothers voice and clearly she is not here with me in this isolated cavernous snowy maze? "Gene, it's getting dark. Come inside I'm making hot cocoa". "OK mom - I'll just be a minute."

Our walled driveway sloped down into our mostly underground garage. My dad shoveled a looped path to the street from the bottom of the small hill. The walls of this U-shaped trench must have been 6 feet high. You could get lost in here - or so it felt. From the far end no one could see me - I could be naked in my own driveway and no one would know. But it was too cold so my parka would have to stay on.

When I was older I saw the movie “The Shining” where a young boy is chased by his crazed axe-wielding father thru a snow covered hedge maze. That scene always brings back memories of my driveway after the big storm.

Days later, when the streets were clear and people were legally allowed to drive on the roads, T-shirts reading "I survived the Blizzard of '78" were available in every market in the state.

Governor Dukakis would speak on television every day. It was unavoidable, we didn't have cable or a VCR then and there was nothing else on the tube to watch. I don't remember much of what he said. He told us to keep calm, to look out for our neighbors and not to drive until he said it was OK. He wore a cardigan, everyone commented on the fact that he spoke to us in a sweater instead of a suit. This seemed to be important. I guess it made him seem more like one of us – the ordinary people stuck in their homes and bundled up. Of course we didn’t have a military helicopter idling outside ready to whisk us away at a moments notice. We couldn’t even walk next door. I remember him speaking to us from a fireplace but that was probably in my imagination. Maybe I associated his talks with F.D.R.s fireside chats. Of course everyone who heard F.D.R. back then heard him on the radio so no one saw a fireplace then either.

For years people would describe the Blizzard of ‘78 as a pivotal moment in Dukakis’ time as governor. He was later nominated to be the Democratic nominee for president of the United States. I wondered if the cardigan had anything to do with it?

In the morning after the storm we decided we needed supplies. Bread and milk was the mantra for emergencies. Mothers acted as if a few days without those two necessary staples would lead to a gruesome and indescribable demise. Just as limes on a ship prevent death from scurvy so does bread and milk during a storm prevent such a similar fate. Surely the human body can survive on Dr Pepper and Doritos just as well - at least for a few days. We grabbed our plastic snow sled with the rope hanging from the front and began our long 8 block journey through deepest darkest suburbia to the local mini-market. The vision that greeted me at the end of our street will always be remembered. I can't guarantee how accurately it will be remembered but it will be remembered. A foot and sled worn path converged from all the surrounding streets. Hundreds of my neighbors were pulling toboggans in a wintry 1970s suburban version of the Bataan death march. All in search of that holiest of grails at the end of the line - bread and milk.

Yet, amidst the crisis that we found ourselves in together, spirits were remarkably high. My parents laughed and commiserated with the neighbors. I saw my friends on the streets and ran up to them to talk about how cool it was that the teachers would be unable to drive to school for at least a week. This made us very happy until we found out later that the school year would be lengthened accordingly to make up for the lost time. 

The mini-market was located on the other side of the highway. We all crossed the bridge over the normally busy roadway. There was nothing below us but snow and a few abandoned cars that were noticeable only by the slight hump that their presence created in the sea of white and by the periscopic presence of a radio antenna. I never did find out where the owners of those cars went? Did they hike to nearby homes in search of food and shelter? I heard later that some folks died from carbon monoxide poisoning in their cars because the snow piled up enough to block their tailpipes as their cars were idling to keep them warm.

There was a rumor going around that some kids mom got kicked out of the mini-market for attacking the owner. It was said that she was upset because she thought the owner was hoarding supplies, that he still had a stockpile in back he wasn't telling people about. I didn't know the woman in question or her kid but I believed every word of the story. This was before I became familiar with the concept of the "urban myth".  What was it that could drive a normal and probably mild mannered suburban woman so out of her mind with fear for her families survival that she would resort to an act of physical violence just to protect her cubs? What was it that she so desperately needed from this store that was still well stocked with cookies, candy, soda and snacks? What else? Bread and milk.