by Bob Allen
Being snowbound like we were Saturday and Sunday brings back memories and as a kid, many dreams about it happening. There has always been something captivating and wonderful as a kid thinking about the experiences you could have — sledding, ice skating (where I lived in Jersey), walking in the snow and searching for new scenes in the woods across the street from our home, and just enjoying time off from school.
I found the following timely February 13, 1975 Roving Around column in our file books for your enjoyment.
The last time I got snowbound was a good many years ago — something like 17 years.
Peggy and I had gone to Woodstock, Va., to visit my brother, Bill, and his wife, Mabel. They were the editor and publisher of the weekly newspaper there just after publishing The Wake Weekly here for nearly a year.
We had planned to leave Sunday, but it started to snow furiously. I was a bit worried and kept looking out every few minutes, but the snow came down like it was perpetual motion. It showed no signs of stopping.
Bill finally got me settled down and said we might as well plan to stay over until Monday. There was nothing we could do about it, so why not relax and enjoy it, he said.
We got a fire going in the basement den fireplace and Bill got out slides of their six-weeks trip out west.
They were beautiful and captivating — just like we were along on the trip.
I sneaked a peek behind the curtains every once in a while to check on the snow. It was still going strong.
And then the fire felt even better and the slides of the warm and sunny west looked more inviting.
Later, Bill and Mabel took us for a ride in their car, sort of like a modern sleigh.
He had just installed new mud and snow tires on the car and it went up and down those streets almost as sure footed as a mountain lion.
We had no traffic to contend with. Every sensible person had either gone to bed or cuddled up against a cozy fire to watch TV,. or read.
But it was real fun — like pioneers blazing a new trail as the snow tires bit their large lugs into the soft snow before anyone else had. Only the little squeaking sounds could be heard. It was as if a huge quilt had been laid over the picturesque town.
And when we awoke the next morning,we learned 8 inches of that white stuff had fallen. I didn’t have any snow tires for my ’73 Ford Torino — just tire chains. I knew they wouldn’t be any good to travel the nearly 300 miles to get us home
Bill called the Highway Patrol, and they reported the snow was only about an inch deep about 20 miles south — where we would be heading.
As we headed out, the temperature rose above the freezing point and the Route 11 main highway, was already slushy.
The driving was OK and the scenery was beautiful.”
This sign got attention
“Need a little LUV?” the sign read on a new little pickup truck parked in front of S&W Chevrolet on Monday.
As I pulled up to park, I began wondering who was offering the love at S&W Chevrolet on Monday — when the wording got through to me. LUV is the name of the imported truck and maybe someone got romantically inclined as Valentine’s Day approaches.
Learned it wasn’t talkative Judy who got the brainstorm, but dealership co-owner John Sanderford. I asked John straight-facedly while expecting anything. “Well, I have to think a bit once in a while,” he exclaimed. I think I almost detected a blush as he took right much ribbing about the sign.
Finally finds his church
A man had been looking for a church to attend and he happened to go into a small one where the congregation was reading with the minister.
“‘We have left undone those thing which we ought to have done, and we have left done those things we ought not to have done.”
The man sighed with relief and dropped into a pew. “Thank the Lord,” the man said. “I’ve found my crowd at last.”
He asked for it
Seeing his first American football game, the English man watched one of the teams go into a huddle.
“What do you think of it,” asked his American friend.
“It’s not a bad sport,” he observed. “But they have too many committee meetings.”
Quote of the week
I was going to stay on the three million miles of bent and narrow rural American two-lane, the roads to Podunk and Toonerville. Into the sticks, the boondocks, the burgs, backwaters, jerkwaters, the wide spots-in-the-road, the don’t-blink-or-you’ll-miss-it towns. Into these places where you say, “My God! What if you lived here!” The Middle of Nowhere.
— William Least Heat-Moon, Blue Highways,1982.