Remembering the Blizzard of '79
Today is my son Todd's 40th birthday. Yes, it makes me feel old, but that's not the story I'm going to tell. Frankly, everything makes me feel old...
Last Wednesday was my son Matthew's 35th birthday, and two days before that was my birthday.
Yesterday was Todd's third child's birthday.
I guess we DeJournetts have a thing about February.
Every time the boys' birthdays roll around, I remember that fateful day, 35 years ago, when my husband and I brought that little blonde boy home from the hospital.
Yes, I know--I'm the one who insisted that we come home on Feb. 23. Dr. Rawlins told me that I should stay, that things "had not gone well."
"Oh, phooey!" I thought. My mom had come over from Springfield to stay a few days, and it was going to be "fun"!
Little did we know what lay in store for us within the next two days...
I did not have a good night on Saturday night, Feb. 24.
On Sunday morning, Feb. 26, an icy wind blew snow horizontally across the big, cold window in the living room. The landscape out the window was solid white.
"White-out!" muttered my husband in disbelief.
We hadn't seen one of those since we left Alaska in '75.
The snow did not stop until it had deposited approximately 3 feet of accumulation, with drifts of 10 feet.
The map of Missouri, shown on our local TV station, revealed a bean-shaped patch of snow over southeast Missouri. My family in Springfield refused to believe that Mom could not make it back to help them move her drapery shop to a new location.
My son Todd could not believe that he had no birthday cake and no gifts from Mom and Dad--nothing but that helpless little pink baby brother, about whom he would later print a sign, reading "For Sale--Brother! Will trade for goat!"
God bless my mother during this stressful period! From her suitcase, she dug out a gift for Todd--a Star Wars C3PO model for the two of them to put together at the kitchen table. It was his sole birthday gift that year, except for little brother Matthew, who was hardly a welcome addition in the eyes of a 5-year-old.
While my husband stared longingly at the decorative Alaskan snowshoes over the fireplace mantle, Mom diverted Todd with the little gold robot and tried to get me to eat something.
There were cattle to feed and water, and only one person to do it, struggling across the levee to the barn in 3 feet of snow. We never thought we would need the bindings for the snowshoes. Who knew?
I didn't know it at the time, but Dr. Rawlins was putting on the snowshoes that his daughter had given him for Christmas the year before. I heard later that he was the only doctor able to reach Southeast Hospital during those first horrible days.
Meanwhile, neighbors with tractors and backhoes were laboring to clear our road, a mile from State Highway 00, so I could get to the doctor. The National Guard was called out to help clear highways.
In later years, I heard how much fun some families had in the snow that week, sledding and building snowmen.
I do vaguely remember a bright blue sky above the frozen landscape, but the Blizzard of 1979 shall go down in my memory as the least amount of "fun" I've ever had in my life.
Happy birthday, boys! I have to say that you were worth it all!
Comments
- -- Posted by Dexterite1 on Wed, Feb 26, 2014, at 3:38 PM
- -- Posted by starrynight_3945 on Thu, Feb 27, 2014, at 10:50 AM
- -- Posted by judy.gregory@sbcglobal.net on Thu, Feb 27, 2014, at 12:06 PM
- -- Posted by Madeline1 on Fri, Feb 28, 2014, at 5:37 PM
- -- Posted by goat lady on Fri, Feb 28, 2014, at 5:42 PM
- -- Posted by goat lady on Mon, Mar 3, 2014, at 7:04 AM
- -- Posted by judy.gregory@sbcglobal.net on Thu, Mar 6, 2014, at 12:43 PM
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