Snow Day(s)

What was supposed to be a dusting of snow here in Vancouver turned out to be a dumping of snow. Well, that's what it looked like anyway. We'd taken Charli down for a run by Vancouver Lake when I first heard the dreaded snow forecast on the radio. Randy poo-poo'd it saying snow would only fall in the hills of Portland.

On the drive home, we noticed flakes on the windshield.

Then, later that afternoon, I glanced out the office window and noticed a few more.

But it was almost 5 the next time I looked out. And...holy smokes...it was really coming down out there!

Of course, I grabbed the camera and started shooting. In case you're wondering, the white dots on the pictures (some looking as big as snowballs) are actually snowflakes at various distances from the camera lens.

This was all supposed to be gone by Wednesday morning.

However, it's now Thursday - New Year's Eve - and we still have snow. I'm hoping this is all we get for the winter.

One thing is for certain. I was glad I wasn't on the highway when those big, wet, white flakes were falling!

Calling in

I did something Friday night that I’ve never done before. I called in to a talk show and spoke with the hosts. The subject was one very close to my heart and one that has kept me captivated over the past week – namely, the Flood Fight in ND.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that one of the co-hosts is a dear friend of mine from college days and beyond – John Strand. That’s him on the left - I took some screen shots before calling in.

John had emailed late Thursday to say that he was going to co-host a Fargo radio talk show that evening. The midnight to 5am show was being used to disseminate flood information to the Fargo/Moorhead area. He’d included the web link and invited us to call in with questions, share comments and concerns, or just to say hello. I didn't see that email until the next morning. I emailed and told him I felt bad for missing it.

He emailed later that day and said he would be on again that evening. So, I clicked on just after 10pm my time (midnight his time) and listened for about a half-hour before dialing in. The guy answering the phone asked for my first name and where I was calling from; then placed me on hold after saying I would be the next person they talked with. At the time, they were talking with a woman who was manning the local volunteer hotline – she was giving volunteers information about where they were needed, what types of things needed doing, or numbers to call for other types of information. She talked about the spirit of the volunteers. How it made her feel that so many people – 80,000 volunteers in all – had stepped up, hour-after-hour, through the cold, snow and wind, to save the homes, businesses and lives of the Fargo/Moorhead area residents. Think of that – 80,000 volunteers. Fargo’s total population – men, women, children, cats and dogs – is just over 90,000. She said she hoped that the rest of the nation would see how this community of volunteers, working together, had managed to fill and place over 3 million sandbags. That working together can produce tremendously positive results – and maybe that was a lesson a lot of people in the world needed to take away from this…it’s about helping each other in times of crisis; not just helping ourselves. She talked about the bone-tiredness of volunteers at the end of a 4-hour shift. But how, just 6 hours later, those same volunteers would be back on the line ready to help again. People, she said had come from all over the Midwest, by the busloads and carloads, to help. The volunteers were of all ages. Those who weren't able to fill or place sandbags were helping prepare and deliver food and supplies. Some were manning phones or setting up off-site shelters. Others who were too far away to lend a physical hand were calling to find out how they could help monetarily or emotionally. When it was finally my turn, John said there was a caller from Washington state named Sue…and he thought he might just know who that was. Then, he turned to the camera and with a wide smile on his face, waved and yelled “Hi Susy!” (Those college nicknames never seem to go away, do they?) I’m slightly embarrassed to say I waved back – and I didn’t have a web cam on.

John explained who I was, that both Randy and I had graduated from NDSU in Fargo, and that we still had many friends and relatives in the area and the state. He asked what people here in Vancouver and Portland were saying about the flood, and asked what our feelings were about being so far away while people we knew and cared about were fighting for their homes. We talked about the spirit of ND and her people. We talked about our sandbagging days in college. And we talked about our college friends – now pillars of the community – who were fighting to save their homes. Since Friday, I’ve tuned in a couple more times; listening to volunteers and residents talk about what keeps them going; listening to callers from out-of-state tell why this flood and the overwhelming volunteer response to it keeps them tuned in and hanging on…how they feel a camaraderie with the people there.

John emailed yesterday that he'll continue hosting the midnight-5am (Central time) shift “until the crisis is over.” Unfortunately, with the state in the throes of yet another blizzard, that could be awhile!

Keep up the good work, John and all of you volunteers. My thoughts and prayers are with the people in Fargo/Moorhead and throughout the state as you fight this battle in bitter cold temperatures, biting wind and seemingly never-ending snow.

ND Winters

I was born and raised in North Dakota so I know about winter. I know about the bone-chilling cold, blocked roads, houses that never really get warm, layering on lots of clothes before heading outside, and I know all about headbolt heaters. And while it wasn't really ND winters that made me leave ND, I'm awfully glad I'm not there this winter "enjoying" the 60 inches of snow and artic temperatures they've had. I've included a photo that my mother-in-law snapped yesterday morning. And yes, that is 42 below zero. I do remember a three-day blizzard back in 1966 (does that sound like a line from an old western movie?). [Ed. note: I'd originally typed 1996 but it should be 1966 - thanks, Kim.] The weather was so bad that my Dad was unable to get to the barn...he couldn't even see the trees in our shelter belt through the blowing snow. Here's an arial photo of our farm taken over 30 years ago. As you can see, the house in which we lived was pretty much out in the open and a long way from the barn where the cattle were.

For three days the blizzard raged and Dad had no idea if the cattle were safe inside the barn or buried under the snow.

When it was all over, we discovered a ten-foot snow bank in front of the barn. Here's a picture of my sister Janis and me (in on the right) standing on the snow bank. See that little 4-paned window on the left? The bottom of that window is about ten feet from the ground. Oh, and the cattle were fine. They'd all taken shelter inside the barn. They were thirsty and hungry but they were alive. Thinking back, the one I really feel sorry for was Mom. After all, how do you keep five kids entertained during a blizzard? Remember, this was ND in the 60s; we could get 2, maybe 3 channels on our black-and-white television. Our house wasn't large; my two sisters and I shared one large bedroom upstairs and my two brothers shared the other. That was pretty much it for the upstairs. We didn't have a theater room or a great room or a game room; in my house, the living room was where we...lived. When the blizzard was over, my older brother Dennis conned me into helping him build a tree house. Granted, building a treehouse in March isn’t the norm in ND but since the snow drifts were 15-ft high in the trees, it kinda made sense. Well, we were young so it made sense to us.

We didn’t have to climb the trees to get to the right height; we simply carried the boards over, climbed up a few branches and nailed them in place. It wasn’t until the snow started to melt that I realized I’d been conned. You see, as the snow melted, the lower branches were exposed. Dennis simply sawed off those branches so I couldn’t reach them. Here’s a picture of our soon-to-be treehouse with me holding the first branch in place. I can’t imagine either of my sisters would have allowed their kids to do this when they were our age. And I’m sure my Mom wasn’t all that happy about it but remember, she’d just spent three very l-o-n-g days locked up in a house with us! She was probably just happy we weren’t inside. But one really good thing did come out of that blizzard though; I learned to knit.