“Snow Down!” - From My Window

This time of year seems to bring the biggest snowfalls of the winter and this past week was no exception. Thursday morning I went to slide the patio door open to let the dogs out in the fence for their wake-up potty break and was confronted with a wall of snow 18” high up against the door… It was the edge of a drift, that quickly rose to three feet high a few steps further away.  The dogs took one look and decided they didn’t really need to go out.  It is not fun to realize you have to immediately get dressed and do some major shoveling just to let the dogs out.

Insult was added to injury as it continued to snow and blow while I labored to clear the patio with a shovel, and while I was able to get the dogs out, within minutes the snow was an inch deep where I had just shoveled.

Friday I made the drive to Marinette I had deferred out of a sense of self-preservation Wednesday.  I started out in the dark, hoping the roads would be in decent condition, reminding myself to “snow down” and take my time.

What I saw, and appreciated, is an amazing sight we all too often take for granted.  While most of the township roads were plowed, they required a respectful decrease in speed.  No matter, I’d left early expecting that.  But once I got on the county highway, my tax dollars were in evidence because the huge truck plows were out in force.  All intersections were sanded or salted, to reduce the risk of someone sliding out in front of me.  And once I reached the major east-west interstate I use, the normal speed limit was safe.  It’s amazing, and I know it, because I lived in Oklahoma for 18 years.  A two-day snowfall like we just had, with major blowing and drifting, would and has shut the city of Tulsa down for an entire week.

Here, our professional road maintenance crews swing into action, ensuring emergency services can get through and the roads are as safe as possible, as fast as possible;  it’s all so-well orchestrated we don’t even think about it.  Businesses can open; hospital employees can make it to work; and it is more of a time-consuming inconvenience than a life-threatening natural disaster.

I had heard on the local news as I hustled around getting ready to leave home, that highway 29 would be down to one lane for a short time to remove two semi-trucks stuck in the ditches near Ringle.  I wasn’t even thinking about that until I saw a cluster of red/blue and yellow emergency lights ahead of me.  I slowed way down, cued by a parked state patrol officer to shift to the left lane.  I slowly passed two more county officers, blocking the lane and reminding all of us to slow down, and then crept by an enormous wrecker and other emergency vehicles in the act of helping the stranded truck get back on the road.  Imagine that.  Before I even left, I had been accurately warned about this hazard 30 minutes from my home.  Amazing.

I had to get back on county roads for a short distance to cut over to highway 41 for the last part of my trip.  It felt easier, as it was now fully daylight, making me feel more secure.  But while these roads were plowed, they still commanded my full attention, and each time I met a vehicle headed the opposite way, I paid close attention.  It’s easy to hit a slippery spot and cross the center line, and the consequences can be life-changing.  I slowed down to avoid passing anyone headed the same direction I was, and was patient to stay a safe distance back.

My mission was not important enough to justify taking any risk to save ten more minutes.

After my visit I headed home on interstates and county roads that were in near-perfect condition; the sand and salt having worked some magic and the road crews continuing to address problem spots. 

The size and scope of the job when we get a major snowstorm, especially one accompanied by 30 plus mile an hour winds, can not be underestimated.  It would be totally overwhelming for many places in the United States.  But here in northern Wisconsin, the right people make decisions about having the right equipment, there is adequate funding to do the job, and the crews know their job well.

Thank you to everyone who has a hand in making this all come together so quickly.  I appreciate each and every one of you.  And to each of the hundreds of vehicle operators I encountered on my five-plus hours of travel on Friday, thank you for “snowing down” to take care of your own safety because in doing so, you are taking care of mine.

Book I just read for the second time, I like it so much:  “Vanished” by Wil S. Hylton.  Non-fiction.  This is about people who expend tremendous effort locating crashed military planes from World War II among the islands of the South Pacific; a little about the MIA people they search for; and the families of the missing aviators who have lived for decades without the closure of knowing what happened to their missing family members.  It’s a little bit of adventure; a little bit of history; and the story of some very admirable people who help those who want answers get them.  Several parts of this book make me quite emotional.

You can reach me for commentary, alternative viewpoints or ideas at this e-mail address: JanieTMartin@gmail.com