Village Squire, 1977-02, Page 38M. Nott
CROWN
HARDWARE
P. S.
Where were you in the big blow of 1977?
BY KEITH ROULSTON
Where were you in the big blow of
1977? That's a question we'll ask in the
yeas to come when we look back at the
week-long blizzard_that halted most
activities in southen Ontario and the
northeastern U.S. in late January and early
February. Who knows, maybe the storm
will even inspire something further:
remember the movie Where were You
When the Lights went Out, that came out
after the big blackout a few years back?
(Not to mention the population boom
exactly nine months after the blackout).
For most of us, however, the answer to
the question where were you will likely be
very uninteresting: at home, trying to keep
warm.
That is where I spent most of the storm
aside from wondering if the fuel truck
could get through the storm before the
furnace ran out of oil, there was little
excitement at all.
At first of course, it was fun. The storm
hit on a Wednesday night on which I was
working late. It wasn't very nice getting
home in the storm, but once there there
was a cosy, warm, trouble-free feeling to
sit down in a warm livingroom with a book
and listen to the wind howl outside. The
timing was about as good as it could be for
a storm because the essential part of the
week in our business where we also put out
weekly newspapers is the Monday to
Wednesday part. A Thursday storm can be
bothersome, but doesn't completely wreck
havoc.
Anyway, there was a nice contented
feeling knowing that if the storm didn't let
up there was no essential reason to be at
work the next day. You perhaps can't
understand that unless you live down two
miles of the worst concession road in
Ontario like I do.
Thursday was still stormy. I woke up
, with plenty of enthusiasm for all the things
I could do around home on such a day. I'd
pick out a good book off the library shelf,
one of the hundreds I've bought over the
years but never found time to read, and I'd
read.
Then the day was not too old before the
seed catalogue syndrome hit me. The seed
companies must have employed psycholo-
gists to tell them the proper time to send
out the catalogues. There's something
about those colourful catalogues that
makes you want to buy, buy, buy on the
coldest, stormiest day of winter. You find
yourself ordering strange varieties you
would never order on a nice warm spring
day but when the wind is howling, the
40, VILLAGE SQUIRE/FEBRUARY 1977
catalogue urge is strong. I'll bet there were
more seeds ordered from seed catalogues
during the blizzard than in any other
one-week period of the year.
I looked and looked and ordered and
ordered, far more than I'll ever be able to
plant. Then it was on to the nursery
catalogue to order new trees for the
orchard we're trying to start. It isn't quite
so easy to get carried away in the nursery
catalogue because the prices are stiff
enough you think twice. Still the bank
account was thinner by the time the storm
ended.
The energy didn't end there. Next it was
on to planning of the stock we hope to get
this summer on our little farm. The
hatchery catalogues were studied, the
merits of different breeds of chicks
discussed (including important things like
which were the prettiest) and we decided
how many we could afford to keep.
And on and on it went...for one day.
From then on the energy level went
downward ever downward. The Friday I
managed to get to work but the storm soon
closed in again and the entire office staff
went home before the storm became too
bad. Saturday it was read a little, watch
television a little and try to forget about all
the household chores you should be doing
but somehow just couldn't face.
Others, I've spoken to have admitted
having the same kind of energy let down
during the storm. You know you should be
doing something and you know there is
plenty that can be done even if it isn't your
normal work, but you just can't get
yourself going. Even the reading I'd been
looking forward to went undone. I'd pick
up a'book, read for a half-hour and find it
so dull that I'd go back to the book shelf
and choose another, only to do the same
thing with that after a short while. After a
while I seemed to spend most of my time
staring at the book shelf trying to find a
book that I hadn't already picked up and
put down.
Television was just as bad. I don't
normally watch much television but under
the circumstances I was suddenly seeing
more and began to realize just how horrible
much of it is.
The kids of course were an added
burden. Our oldest goes to school and
loves it and missing a day of school for her
is like having a tooth pulled...and
she's just about in the same humour as if
she'd had a tooth pulled. She seemed to
spend all the time she wasn't complaining
about not going to school in picking fights
with her younger brother and sister. The
more days she missed school, the more
ornery she got until one day near the end of
the storm a teacher sent some work home
from school for her and she spent the whole
day happily doing it while the brother and
sister played on in peace. Mother could
have kissed that teacher.
Of course the nice calm relaxed feeling_
at the beginning of the storm was shattered
when it lasted into the next week. Suddenly
it was time for us to be putting out the
paper again but the staff was all storm
stayed in their homes, the mail wasn't
moving and getting anything done was
virtually impossible. But deadlines don't
go away in storms, they still hang over your
head even if you can't do anything to meet
them. You just feel miserable. We got the
papers out eventually although they were a
little late but it wasn't something you'd
want to do too often.
Anyway, the storm of 1977 will certainly
give us something to remember in years to
come. The only problem is our children and
grandchildren won't likely believe us when
we tell them just how bad it was.
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