Forces of Nature

I’ve never been one of those parents who wants to keep their kid home from school whenever possible. I operate on the theory that school is preparing young people for the world of employment, which doesn’t stop every time there is bad weather.

So yesterday, as high school students were already on school buses and a few were even at school when they got the text that our school system had changed its status from two-hour early dismissal to closed for the day, I rolled my eyes.

I had, after all, been closely monitoring the weather situation. I had heard all of the dire predictions that we would get a big snowfall on the first official day of spring. But only 14 hours earlier, I had been out on my bike enjoying spring-like weather. Not only that, but I’d had my eye on the National Weather Service forecast believing that, unlike for-profit weather companies, it would give me accurate information without all the hype.

And, the last time I checked, it was calling for a mix of sleet, snow and rain until 2:00 in the afternoon when the temperatures were supposed to drop below freezing. The sun hadn’t even risen when I took the dog for a walk while our cat trotted behind. That cat hates snow, ice and cold temperatures, so I trusted her more than any weather forecaster.

I shouldn’t have.

As I got ready for work, I put on clothes intended for looking good rather than for battling the elements.

I shouldn’t have.

I left for work after texting a couple of co-workers that the roads were fine and they didn’t have any worries.

I shouldn’t have.

By the time I drove the eight minutes from my house to my office, the temperature had already dropped two degrees. And I had only been in my office for a short time when big, heavy snowflakes began to fall.

By the time I was on a 9:00 conference call, I was watching a truck slip and side in front of the office.

And by the time I got off my conference call, the National Weather Service forecast had changed.

Needless to say, I closed the office, went home, shoveled the driveway and sent a text complaining about the weather to my friend.

But here’s the truth. There’s always something enjoyable about unusual weather. Maybe it’s how it breaks up the predictability of our lives. Maybe it’s because it brings us closer to neighbors, friends, co-workers and even the paper delivery guy as we collectively fight the elements. Or maybe it’s because these moments create memories that last a lifetime.

Yesterday afternoon, I sent a message to a group of college friends telling them about the local weather and reminding them of another freak snow storm.

It was April 1987 at Ohio University, and we were all looking forward to the warm days on South Green where we lived. When the temperatures rose, barely dressed  students would sunbathe on towels while groups of guys played hacky sack nearby.

I had taken all of my winter clothes to my parents during spring break, so I didn’t have a coat, or boots or even any warm sweaters.

Which means,  I wasn’t prepared to walk around campus in 17 inches of snow in tennis shoes:  April 1987 Snowstorm

But I was 20 years old, so I did.  To keep warm, I borrowed  highly stylish 1980’s big, bright sweaters from my roommate Amy, who was from Rochester, New York. She knew spring didn’t necessarily mean it was time to pack away the sweaters.

She also knew where the best parties were. And so a group of us tramped through knee-deep snow to go to a party where, for some reason, we took photos.

Today, those photos hold so many memories. They don’t just represent a snapshot in time during a freak snowstorm. They represent a part of me that used to be… that part that only still exists only because I can share it with the people who were there with me.

Mother Nature may be temperamental, but Father Time is as predictable as he is relentless. His march forward stops for no one. He leaves his footprints on our relationships and our circumstances while etching wrinkles on our faces. But in each of those footprints, he also leaves a memory that can be taken out and enjoyed in any kind of weather.

Life is short. Snowstorms are even shorter. But friendships and memories? With the right people, they can last forever.

About Trina Bartlett

I live in the Eastern Panhandle of WV, with one dog, two cats, a theater kid in high school, a band kid at West Virginia University and a husband who works strange hours. When I'm not working as a director at a nonprofit social service organization or being a mom, I can generally be found riding my bike, walking my dog and stirring things up.

Posted on March 21, 2018, in history, My life, people, perspective and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Sandra Osbourn

    Lovely.

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