FEBRUARY 21, 2023 – For the next several days, our region is under a winter storm warning, with the threat—or promise?—of 20 inches of new snow. We desperately need something to cover the ubiquitous ice that threatens every one of us with a takedown faster than you can think, “banana peel.” (For the record, when I was a kid, I tested the metaphor by laying a fresh Chiquita peel—slippery side up—on the driveway pavement and sliding my shoe over the test patch. I can attest: the peel was slicker than grease.)
As the weather warnings on local news gained momentum, so did the sense of adventure. Adding to the hype was the declaration of snow emergencies by both St. Paul and Minneapolis, the governor’s declaration of a “peace emergency,” and notices of widespread school and work closings. At the clinic today (six-month post-transplant visit), everyone was talking about the big storm. When we pulled into the grocery store parking lot afterward, the place looked like the day before Thanksgiving. Every phone call today started and concluded with snow talk—juiced by predictions that the storm will be “historic.”
The first part of the snowstorm struck late this afternoon. On our way home from the grocery store, visibility was less than a half mile and the main roads were down to narrow tire lanes, one side only. Once off the streets, we holed up in the safety of our home, appreciating our new hot water heater and year-old furnace—if not, so much, the new air-conditioning we had installed last summer to protect against . . . another hot, humid, Minnesota summer.
At this writing, there’s a lull in the action. We’ve been warned, however, not to slip into complacency. The forecast calls for waves of three-inch snowfalls, followed by a grand slam. I define the latter as enough snow to halt all vehicular traffic and allow for skate-skiing up and down streets.
Many people here have had enough of winter, and I fully understand their disdain. Remind me of the ice dams that cost the equivalent of a weeklong trip to Florida—air fare, food and lodging—and for added effect, say, “banana peel sidewalks,” and without thinking things through, I myself might join the complainers. Say “bungee cord” (see January 11 post), and I could wind up as a chant-leader among the “NO NEW SNOW!” protesters.
In reality, as we’ve witnessed over the past several years, no part of the country is any longer safe from inclement weather. To the extent of a causal relationship between extreme weather and anthropogenic climate change, we have reason for deep despair. Irrespective of cause, though, extreme weather is to be feared and respected.
If storms have a silver lining, it’s their unifying effect. I pondered this as I waited in the sprawling grocery store parking lot while Beth was inside to pickup last minute items. Stirring my thoughts were people scurrying in and out of the store, all on a common mission: stocking up on . . . snacks; the car radio news telling of mass free parking in St. Paul and Minneapolis ramps so plows can clear streets free of parked vehicles; public officials taking turns advising against unnecessary travel. What a deadly virus couldn’t do, I thought, perhaps extreme weather can: remind us that rich or poor, old or young, urban or rural, Democrat or Republican, “We’re All in this Together.”
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© 2023 by Eric Nilsson
