Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, March 16, 1993 TAG: 9303160348
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE:
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
IF NOT A RECORD, IT WAS BAD ENOUGH
IN NEW Jersey, where as much as 20 inches of snow fell Saturday in the Blizzard of '93, a fellow was found on Sunday trying to dig out his car with a spatula and a frying pan."We misunderstood the immensity of the job," he explained.
Most of us did, at first.
Oh, we had plenty of warning. Forecasters at the National Weather Service were telling us days in advance that this might be the Storm of the Century. And folks listened, somewhat - as much as we are able to listen to warnings that often fall blessedly short of the most extreme predictions.
We heard and took heed: Big snow coming; buy milk, bread and beer and get home. The usual ritual.
But this storm was different.
Who, except the forecasters, interpreting and believing in their computer-generated prophecies, could grasp the idea of a storm so big and fierce that it would swirl from Cuba to Canada, from eastern Mexico to the Eastern Seaboard, feeding on its own awesome power? A storm that would start on Friday and still be raging into Sunday?
That first 6 inches was beautiful.
The snow kept coming.
The first foot seemed quite sufficient.
The snow kept coming.
After we had had more than enough, the snow kept coming - 2 or 3 feet of it, in some areas of Virginia, with drifts much higher. Fifty inches fell in North Carolina; drifts there and in Pennsylvania reached 14 feet high.
Yes, it was the Storm of the Century, some weather experts judged. No, there have been worse, others assured us: the Ash Wednesday storm of 1962, the storm in February 1983 - both dropped more snow on Virginia.
Either way, this one was bad enough. We do not covet such a record.
And, in the storm's aftermath, we realize we were lucky in several ways.
First, the Storm (debatably) of the Century occurred after weather forecasting had become a science, albeit an imperfect one. We knew there was more than a good chance that a humongous blizzard would develop and we had plenty of time to prepare. Not only was the public able to lay up provisions (for once, the scramble to the grocery store proved justified), emergency service agencies also were able to stand at the ready. All the wildly inaccurate weather forecasts of the past were forgiven. No one should have been caught by surprise.
Second, the storm struck on a weekend. Most people didn't have to get to work, and those who had no business venturing out chose wisely to stay in, for the most part. So there were that many fewer people getting stranded, that many fewer rescues to be made. Never was it more true that they also served who sat and waited it out.
Third, people were brave and generous. From High Knob Mountain in Norton, where a dozen or more people were stranded for 21 hours, to the Big Walker Mountain Tunnel, where 300 people were trapped Saturday night, those who got caught in the storm in Virginia were rescued and sheltered. There are similar dramatic accounts from other states, and countless good Samaritans and good neighbors whose deeds go unrecorded.
Gradually, life returns to routine. As its remains are shoveled or plowed or melt away, the Blizzard of '93 leaves us with at least some good things besides a blanket of white: There are memories and stories to share. Like the weather itself, storms give us something to talk about, and more than that - adventure.
Too much adventure, in some cases. More than 100 people died in this country, Cuba and Canada. Accurate weather forecasting, expert emergency planning, technological capacity, and human will and courage undoubtedly kept that number from rising far higher. The toll was nowhere near the some 400 deaths reported in the Great Blizzard of 1888.
But it was still too high - still a reminder that, as hard as we try to wrap ourselves in safety, nature retains devastating powers of life and death.