I woke up this past Sunday morning surprised to
see that it had snowed over night. It
wasn't any major snowfall, only an inch or so, but just enough to cover the
driveway and sidewalk. I was surprised
because the forecast for the week hadn't mentioned anything about snow, only
that the temperatures were going to be unseasonably high for the next five
days. When I saw the white stuff on the ground I
couldn't help thinking back to thirty six years ago, just this time of year, in
fact, to another unexpected snow event that will stay in my memory forever.
It was the third weekend in February of 1980 and
my wife and I had just been blessed, through adoption, with a baby girl. Our daughter, Lindsay, had arrived on this
earth on January 14 of that year and six weeks later, on February 21, a
Thursday evening, to be exact, we received a call saying that we should drive
to Sioux City to meet her for the first time and to bring her home to
stay.
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| Lindsay on February 22, 1980. The day that we first brought her home. She was six weeks old. |
We spent the next two days, Friday and Saturday,
shopping with Lindsay for baby supplies and getting to know each other and to
bond. On Sunday morning, February 24, we
decided that we wanted to share our good fortune with family and so we decided
to take a trip to Windom, Minnesota so that my parents could meet their new
granddaughter. We were living in
Cherokee, Iowa at the time and it was about a 100 mile trip, or just under two
hours to Windom. We loaded up our ’77 Dodge
Charger and off the three of us went. We
had a great afternoon at my parents house and I remember being as proud as the
proverbial peacock being able to show this adorable little bundle to Mom and
Dad. They were thrilled and both of them
fussed over her quite a bit, something that wasn't all that normal for my dad.
We ate a late afternoon meal in Windom and headed
for home just as it was starting to get dark. By the time we had made it to
Worthington, just 28 miles down Minnesota highway 60, it had started to snow
lightly. But it seemed to be just
flurries and nothing to worry about.
However, when we got to the Iowa border, just 10 miles south of
Worthington the snow had started to come down more heavily and it was starting
to accumulate just a little on the highway.
I had driven through some bad weather a number of times before and this
snowfall certainly wasn't going to be anything more than a minor
annoyance. I was sure about that, so I
wasn't at all worried.
Twenty two miles farther south, at Sanborn, Iowa
things were not looking so good. The
snowfall by now was heavy and visibility was extremely limited. As I recall, I was now only able to drive 35
to 40 miles per hour and, I'm sure, I was starting to grip the wheel just a
little bit tighter. If you've ever
driven in a heavy snowfall I'm sure you know what I mean by that. By this time LeeAnn and I were both starting
to worry about the baby and I know that I was also questioning my common sense
as well as my worthiness to be a father.
I started wondering how any responsible parent could bring their
precious infant daughter out into dangerous conditions such as this.
Just to the east of Sanborn we turned south on
Highway 59 and headed for Cherokee, just 35 more miles to go. But this wasn't going to be an easy 35 mile
drive. The wind had picked up now and it
was out of the west blowing snow across the roadway and causing white out
conditions that were so bad that, at times, made it hard to see anything beyond
the hood of my own car. Eventually we crawled in to the little town of Primghar
and got some temporary relief driving through town. The lights along the highway made it easier
to see and I recall that we gave some thought to trying to find a hotel or
someplace to stay and wait out the storm.
The lure of the warmth and safety of home was
evidently too strong, however, and so we pressed on. Cherokee was now just 28 miles further and,
if we had made it this far, surely we could make it 28 more miles if I was
really, really careful. Lindsay, was
strapped in the back seat and sleeping through all of this. Just six weeks old, she wasn't worried one
bit. Her new parents, however, were
frightened and frazzled.
Just south of Primghar driving became virtually
impossible. The snow had accumulated on
the roadway to the point that the car was straining to get through it. There was no way to tell if I was in the
right lane or not. In fact, it was not
even possible to be sure that I was on the road at all. Everything was white and covered with
snow. I couldn't tell the roadway from
the ditch and the snow was falling and drifting furiously making visibility
impossible. I could not see where I was
going.
At this point I was dragging along at 5 miles per
hour and both LeeAnn and I had our windows rolled down, me trying see where the
road was and she trying to see where the ditch was, when I noticed a light in
the window of a farm house on the left.
I inched along as slowly as I could, just enough to keep the car moving
without getting stuck in the snow. I was
sure that I saw the farm driveway so I turned toward it and gunned the engine
just enough to get the car off of the highway and up into the end of the driveway.
I remember telling LeeAnn that I was going to see if whoever lived there could
help, but I had no idea what I really expected.
I just knew that I couldn't go any farther.
As I walked up the driveway, stumbling through
the piles of snow, I noticed that a man had come to the door and was watching
my approach. I remember that he shouted
something to me, but I couldn't make out what he said, so I just hollered back
at him telling him that I had my wife and baby in the car, we were on our way
to Cherokee, and we just couldn't make it any further. Thankfully, the man told me to get my wife
and baby out of the car and come on in.
It was a young farm family that lived there. We recounted the details of our driving
adventure and they understood our plight and took pity on us. They said that we should not worry about
trying to get to Cherokee that night and they would let us stay with them. They apologized that they had no spare room
for us but said that, if we didn't mind sleeping on the living room floor, they
did have plenty of extra blankets and pillows.
I can't even begin to describe the relief that I felt, and the
gratitude. We were safe and warm, all
three of us including the baby, and that was most important.
The morning came and the snow had stopped. We said our thank yous and goodbyes to the
family that had been so gracious and hospitable and then the farmer helped me dig our car out so that I
could back onto the highway and proceed home to Cherokee. The highway was treacherous as the plows
hadn't been out yet, but the visibility was perfect. It was a cold, crisp, clear morning. With God’s help, and that of the family of
"Good Samaritans" that he led us to, we had survived this
ordeal.
Over the years the memory of that night and the
strong emotions that came with it, have vividly stayed with me. Because of that experience, I'm smarter now. I
always check the weather report before heading out on the highway and I just
won't go anywhere in bad weather if I can help it. Lindsay survived the whole thing quite well
too. She grew up to be an incredible young woman. Smart, talented and
beautiful. Pretty much everything you
could hope for in a daughter. I can't
help but think that there must be some memory of that terrible, cold, snowy
night stuck somewhere in her psyche too, though, as she grew up hating the snow
and cold of midwest winters and now lives in the warm and dry climate of
Arizona. So you see, just like me, she’s smarter now too.
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