SNOW - MY RELATIONSHIP WITH THE WHITE STUFF

By Srianee (Bunter) Dias

Don't worry, I don't have a drug problem!  I'm talking about about the wet white COLD stuff that descends on us in the northern part of the United States intermittently from November through March. I don't remember when I saw snow for the first time, but it was probably sometime in 1970 or 1971 shortly after I moved to New York City. It didn't have much of a impact on me, because at that time I was staying at home with my daughters and we were able to watch the very pretty snow flakes from inside our warm apartment, and enjoy the few inches that had accumulated on the ground after the snow storm was over.

After I moved to Connecticut, it was a different story. I was driving my children several miles to a Montessori School every morning, even though I lived within walking distance of the Hospital where I was doing my residency training in Pathology. When snow storms were predicted, there was palpable anxiety in our house. How many inches will accumulate? Will they close the schools? The school closings are usually announced on the local radio stations, and very often one wouldn't know for certain until the early morning announcements. We would watch the late night TV weathermen who loved to "hype" it up when a Nor'easter was coming from the south along the shore, picking up more and more moisture from the ocean. They would strut their stuff, predicting 10 or 20 inches.  It was almost a game to hit the target number. Sometimes the storms veered out to sea and left only a few inches on the ground.

I didn't care exactly how many inches accumulated on the ground, I just needed to know whether or not to line up a baby sitter for the next day.  Hospitals didn't close down, so we had to show up regardless of the weather.  Once, my colleague and I resorted to taking our three girls (all between the ages of 4 and 6) to work, and allowed them to amuse themselves in the conference room with art projects.  They survived!

Then I began to realize that other people were really enjoying themselves during the snow season, and started making day trips and weekend trips with my daughters, and sometimes friends, determined to learn skiing.  The kids got the hang of it in a very short time, but my first group  lesson resulted in my crashing into my instructor and taking him down with me.  Fortunately, neither one of us was hurt.  This first experience did not discourage me, and I made several other attempts to learn downhill skiing.  I succeeded in enjoying the experience a few times with a patient instructor, whenever the ski slope was not so crowded (mid-week) and the teenage hot-shots were all busy at school.  Finally, the rational side of me realized that there were better things to do than strapping on a pair of skis and uncomfortable boots and sliding down a mountain with the chilly wind blowing in my face and neck.  I found the perfect solution and stayed inside the ski lodge with a good book and a hot chocolate, by the fireplace, while my daughters had fun on the slopes.

I have also endured some major blizzards in the past.  The definition of a blizzard is when the snow comes down at a rapid rate with high winds and near zero visibility.  Luckily, most of these storms are predicted ahead of time, so most people dash in to the grocery stores to stock up in anticipation of several days of hibernation.  The stocks of bread and milk get depleted rapidly.  Most wise people stay at home during these fierce storms.  Driving on the roads during a blizzard means risking at least a "fender bender" or worse.   For those of us who work in hospital there is no choice; we have to get the work done.  Routine surgery is often cancelled, and those who can make it into work plan on staying the night.  Patients who are able to go home get discharged in order to accommodate hospital staff who have to stay overnight.  I have often camped out on the floor of my office on an air mattress rather than risk my life going home.  Then, there were other days when I braved the weather and the slick roads, and made it home, usually if I had the day off the next day!

One memorable blizzard was a surprise in early April.  My commute was usually about 20 minutes from hospital to home, but that day it took much longer. My department started emptying out early after we completed the urgent and most important work.  It was already Spring so some of us hadn't even worn our warm coats to work that morning.  Fortunately, my winter gear consisting of a blanket and shovel were still in my Honda Civic.  I headed home in a complete "white out" where I could not see the road at all.  The roadway and sidewalks were all  blended into one continuous snowdrift.  Fortunately, the route was very familiar and some of the barely recognizable buildings and the tail lights of the cars ahead of me guided me towards home.  Any hills or upgrades that one did not notice in clear weather were now like climbing an Alpine trail.  Other cars were getting stuck in the rapidly falling snow, now about 6 inches high on the ground.  My trusty 5 speed manual transmission kept me moving forward, although my car was barely clearing the snow.  Finally, got to an area where I couldn't see the edge of the road, went too close to the edge, and hit a snow bank where my Honda just got stuck.  I couldn't move forward or reverse.  I then got out with my shovel and began shoveling the snow away from under my car and around the wheels.  A few minutes later a Saab drove up and ended in the same predicament.  A guy in a suit got out (he had left his overcoat at home that morning) and asked if he could borrow my shovel, promising to help me after he dug his car out.  It didn't take him much time to clear the snow under his car and then he started working on my car.  After a few half hearted attempts, he mumbled something about waiting for help, handed the shovel back to me and drove off!  I was speechless, and couldn't retrieve swear words fast enough from my vocabulary to yell after him.  A few minutes later, a few good Samaritans, a bunch of teenagers in another Saab, armed with long handled shovels drove up and dug me out in a matter of minutes.  I was on the slippery road again.  Just near the turn off to my street where there was a hill, I got stuck again.  But, this time there were several guys on the side of the road who were lending a hand by pushing the cars up that hill.  I was truly grateful for all those kind people who got me home safely that evening.  And I also learned a lesson that day.  Never trust a guy in a suit!

At  Christmas time, the radio stations play songs such as "White Christmas" and "Winter Wonderland" which romanticize snow. Frankly, I don't see anything romantic or enchanting about snow.  After all these adventures, I now resort to avoidance by flying away to Sri Lanka for most of the winter.