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Winter Weather
Offers License to Take Pause and Enjoy
(The Daily Corinthian, 8 January 2005) |
Some
of us who were dreaming of a "white Christmas" almost
got that wish granted this past holiday season. However, those
of us who desired that idyllic ground covering could have used
a little more of that white stuff that differentiates snow from
ice, which is mostly what ended up on the ground in the Mid-South.
The Wednesday before Christmas
I was strolling along the streets of New Orleans, finishing up
some last minute shopping before we were to head to the train
station after lunch for the ride back to Memphis. Although the
day was overcast and breezy, it was pleasant comfortable, as
the temperature hovered in the 60s, predicted to reach a balmy
70 degrees.
But back home in Memphis, we discovered
after a phone call from my brother, things were quite different.
The temperature had begun dropping rapidly, and local weatherpersons
were already announcing winter storm warnings fairly early in
the day. The temperature difference between the two cities was
already about 30 degrees.
Such a warning was difficult for
me to believe, as The City of New Orleans rumbled north through
parts of southern Mississippi, passing through small towns where
people milled about in short-sleeved shirts and shorts.
That evening after we finished a dinner of turkey and dressing
in the dining car we settled into the viewing car to watch a
movie as darkness descended. It wasn't until we the train had
reached the Mississippi Delta that I began to notice the beginnings
of icy groundcover through the sporadic glint of streetlights.
At one point, our train stopped
on the track for a few moments to allow a freight train to pass
on an adjoining track. I could see across the way as an occasional
car slowly made its way along an ice-covered road. Although the
road was covered solidly in places, the ground was also beginning
to show signs of the escalating winter weather.
Around Tunica, the signs were unmistakable,
as the ice began to dot the landscape more and more thickly.
I then came to believe more fully my brother's warning from earlier
in the day. The winter storm was upon us.
By the time we reached Central
Station in Memphis that night around 11 p.m., the landscape was
a veritable postcard picture of a white Christmas. The ground
was solidly white.
Before we ever stepped off the
train, I could look through the window into the lights of the
parking lot and witness the sleet, which looked as though it
were being blown sideways. When I stepped off the train, the
wind took my breath, and the sleet hit me in the face like fine
pieces of sand.
It was difficult enough to try
to stay upright on the ice, to avoid slipping, but I also had
to battle the wind and ice hitting me in the face. I felt as
though I had left a tropical paradise earlier in the day and
ventured to the Arctic.
We had to wait in the warmth of
the train for about thirty minutes to allow the thick sheet of
ice to melt off the window of our vehicle before we could start
the treacherous journey to our house. As we began driving home,
I noticed the ice-covered city streets of Memphis were absolutely
abandoned. It was like being thrust into an episode of "The
Twilight Zone," especially eerie as I looked down the length
of the usually busy Beale Street and saw no one.
After an hour of driving slowly
and trying to avoid the few drivers who were out late that night,
we finally made it to the sanctuary of our warm home and settled
into bed. The next day we ventured a short distance from our
house—only to finish some last minute Christmas shopping.
We ended up sliding around the streets of East Memphis with all
the other drivers who had reason to come out, some of whom found
themselves stuck in the icy muck.
Just yesterday I thought we might have a reprise of that pre-holiday
weather, but, alas, the temperature never dropped quite low enough
to permit frozen precipitation. I watched on the news, though,
as parts of Arkansas and Missouri were hit with the winter weather
and wondered if there were any chance those same clouds might
make their way on over to this part of the country.
I believe my fascination with such
weather hearkens back to those gray, overcast days of my childhood
when we schoolchildren waited with great anticipation for those
first few snowflakes to fall. We knew then it would only be a
matter of time when we heard the announcement that school would
be let out for the day and we would free. In those rare instances,
it seemed as though time stopped.
I admit that the ice and snow can
be messy and make for difficult travel, as some will argue. But
the child in me would argue that such weather should give us
pause, allow us to slow down from our usually hectic lives.
We ought not be worried about traveling or meeting schedules
when we experience that rare snowfall in the Mid-South. Instead,
we ought to go home, warm up a cup of hot chocolate, don our
mittens, and celebrate that freedom by, say, making a snowman
and just lingering for a while in the beauty of crystalline snow.
(Stacy Jones, a Southerner,
is a Master of Fine Arts student in fiction writing at The University
of Memphis. She is a native of Guys, Tenn., and her columns,
which appear on Saturdays, are archived at Southern-Drawl.com.) |
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