Till that storm, helping my dad with the snow removal largely consisted of staying out of the way while he ran our behemoth of a snow blower. Mom would say “perhaps you should help your dad.†I could sincerely reply “I am†while watching tv. This made sense as the snowblower was a big one and the last thing you needed while running it was somebody else “helping†at one end of the driveway.

This was mammoth snow and the blowing made things impressive until you had to move them. My childhood home had such an odd shape that a roughly eight foot wall formed outside the back door, but left enough of a canal to the garage that we could make it to the garage to access our “Battery of snow-fighting equipment.†It was a rare occurence as usually helping my Dad clear the driveway meant staying out of the line of fire (and usually inside), but I think even my brother was party of the relocation of the driveway campaign.

The winds made it a multiple day chore, but by the time the worst was over, I was an ace snowblower pilot and using that on those Florida bound neighbors, who are still stuck listening to everybody else’s Blizzard tales.
My longtime partner and crime used the almost two weeks off from school on some arctic architectural pursuits, constructing a snow fort still legendary in its expanse, two floors, complete with slide to get from the balcony level down to the mezzanine.
Even the neighborhood bully was impressed
love that picture of that car..............
Tiny, yeah, I forgot what intersection it was, but I liked it because it gave an idea as to just how much snow fell. People downtown were walking out of some second floor windows. Nothing we've had since could compare
hey, I have seen that traffic light photo somewhere... maybe on your blog last year?
Cool photos & great story!
However much I generally hate snow, that looks pretty fun to play in. My parents said I was born during this storm and no one could visit me. I guess that is better than being born stuck in a car in the blizzard.