Liz's comment on snow ice cream brought to mind this posting from 2005. I've included the comments that were made on that posting. "Ronni" is Ronni Bennett of Time Goes By, who, in case you missed it has recently received good news during her "predicament" (as she calls it) with terminal cancer. "Bogie" is the same Bogie of Bogieblog, our dear younger daughter in New Hampshire.
January 27, 2005
The Blizzard of '83
Back in the late winter of 1982-1983, I wore so many hats that my neck bent from the weight. Being employed by a far-flung scientific and engineering firm that provided support to various branches of government, I headed up their onsite office that was located on an Air Force Base in the panhandle of Florida. From this office, virtually all of our work supported an Air Force program aimed at rapid resumption of aircraft operations from air fields that had sustained wartime damage. The office was staffed by a handful of engineers and one secretary.
There was quite a bit of travel involved in our work. At first, I did all of the traveling because my staff were all young and inexperienced; but, as rapidly as possible, I started to send the young engineers on travel, which they were eager to do. It was a professional advantage for them to gain experience in representing the company in a technical capacity, and it was an advantage to me to spend more time in the office. (We had to visit Long Island NY, Atlanta GA, Fort Worth TX, Seattle WA, St Louis MO, Los Angeles, and Dayton OH at least once each quarter. In addition, there were technical meetings to attend at Scott, Edwards, and Eglin Air Force Bases and management meetings to attend in McLean VA and Albuquerque NM.) Staff morale soared as they were shown that their competence was valued and by their occasionally being able to get away from the isolated venue in which we worked. I sent each staff member to meetings that were closest to the geographic area from which they had come--providing them opportunities to spend a couple of days seeing old friends and relatives without having to pay the expensive airfare or take time off of work. Our secretary was sent to company headquarters in McLean VA. We benefited greatly from her experience.
In the late winter of 1982-1983, my time on assignment was drawing to a close. I had told the company that I was only willing to be in Florida for two years—I wished to transfer to their Albuquerque office—and I had been vigilant in hiring and training the right mix of talents to take over the technical leadership and program management aspects of my assignment. One last program review was scheduled to be held in the company’s main headquarters in McLean. As the technical leadership role would be turned over to Mike, one of the young engineers when I left, he was required to accompany me on the trip. Geri, a secretary in Mclean with whom I had become friends during my two years on the program, was kind enough to invite me to spend the weekend with her and her family—in a suburb of Washington DC. I really looked forward to the weekend--it might be the last time I'd get to see her.
Mike, Randy (a young Air Force Captain), Stan (Civil Servant USAF engineer), and I flew into (then) Washington National Airport the evening before the meeting. There was a light snow in the air. The forecast prior to our leaving Florida had been for a goodly snow, so I had gone prepared. Wool slacks, high-topped boots, and my down jacket were in my suitcase. By the time we had rented a car and driven to the motel, there were a couple of inches of snow on the ground. When we arose the next morning, there were 6-7 inches of snow on the ground, snow was still falling, and it was forecast to continue throughout the day. We threw our luggage into the trunk, checked out of the motel, and left for the meeting—just a few miles away. Before we even left the parking lot, the shear pin failed on my (driver’s side) windshield wiper. Without an operative wiper, it would have been unsafe to drive, so I called the rental car agency to tell them where their car was and asked that they get a taxi to us—which they did in good order.
When we broke for lunch, there were about 10 inches of snow on the ground and still coming down at a good clip. I asked the Air Force if we could close down the meeting and let everyone go home—while they still could. No, we would finish the meeting. By about 2:30, the Air Force agreed that the meeting should be closed to let people get home. As my suitcase was in one of the offices, I stepped into a women’s room and changed into my “Nanook of the North” outfit. Before the guys took a taxi to the airport for their flights home, I checked with Mike to be sure that he had sufficient money on him. He assured me, twice, that he had “plenty". Off to the airport they went.
Geri and I threw my bag into her trunk and dug her car out of the by-now 14-16 inches of snow. Next, we picked her husband up from his office and set out on the 20-mile drive to their home. In their small Nissan, her husband was in the front passenger’s seat, while I sat behind Geri. This would later prove an interesting arrangement.
Never have I been as impressed by anyone’s driving as I was with Geri’s that afternoon. The county roads that she drove had been cleared at some point, but had plenty of snow on them. By now the snow was coming down at an alarming rate. How Geri could possibly tell where the road was, I’ll never know; but, incredibly, she kept us on the road. At about the 2/3-way home point, the windshield wipers quit. Geri quickly stuck her head out the window to see where we were going. She kept driving. Eventually, I thought to slip my mouton earmuffs out of my pocket and onto Geri's ears.
My sitting behind Geri proved interesting because, while leaning out the window, she could not reach the center console-mounted lever to shift gears. We quickly established that her husband didn’t think that he could shift left-handed, so she would call out the gear that she wanted and I would shift the lever when she pushed the clutch pedal forward. Valiantly, onward, Geri drove until we were only 4-6 blocks from their house. There, she parked the car and we went afoot. The snow plows would not get to the side streets, such as Geri’s, until early the next day.
What a lovely Saturday we had. The sun shone on a pristine, rolling sea of snow—all 26 inches of it! Geri, her husband, and I grabbed snow shovels and plied them for two hours straight—clearing the drive and clearing a parking place at the curb (the plows came through while we worked, so some of our work had to be done twice, of course.) We retrieved Geri’s car and then took a break for hot chocolate and snow ice cream—made at the behest of their 13-year-old daughter. They had never eaten snow ice cream and the daughter had me make every flavor imaginable. I, who had always made vanilla, that day made lemon, orange, chocolate, rum, and who-knows-what others. In the afternoon, Geri and I took a 2-hour walk through the countryside—just we and the bunnies left tracks in the snow. During our walk, Geri confided that she had worried about how they would entertain me. How little of a problem that turned out to be!
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