The Winter of Our Discontent
By - Harry Bulkeley
Like a medieval knight, I donned my armor. First were the top and bottom of insulated long johns. Then a flannel shirt and blue jeans. Over that, I pulled on a hoodie sweatshirt and a pair of waterproof ski pants. One more heavy jacket, two pairs of wool socks, insulated gloves, and a stocking cap, and I was ready to strap on my cross-country skis.
I pushed hard on the door to get it through the snow drift on the front porch, skied down the front steps, and set off down the middle of the snow-clogged, traffic-free street with the temperature far below zero, even before you add in the wind. All of this was just to get to my office downtown!
It was January 1979, and Forgottonia was in the grips of one of the worst winters anyone could remember. It started on New Year's Day when a foot of snow fell just before the thermometer dropped to -20. Five days later, before the first mess could be cleared, we got another foot of snow, and by now there was no place to put it.
In addition to all the highways being closed and all the hotels being filled with stranded tourists, sadly, there were people who died shoveling snow or from exposure. And winter was just beginning. Days later, another five inches fell, and the whole state was beginning to look more like Alaska than the Land of Lincoln.
That winter sticks in my mind because we had a brand-new baby and were beginning to restore a crumbling Victorian house. Not the wisest of choices in the best of times, and certainly a bad idea in the throes of a months-long blizzard.
There were several days when I actually did ski to work or to our new house because driving was simply not an option. Between late November and early March, there were 17 major storms of more than four inches of snow.
And boy was it cold! The average temperature for January and February was 15.9 degrees which was 14 degrees below normal.
Luckily, we hadn't moved into our "new" old house yet, but its poor old boiler was chugging and wheezing and still not able to keep that drafty old barn warm enough to work in. On warm sunny days, I could sweep up some plaster or tear out some makeshift walls, but mostly I would walk through the place staring out the ice-encrusted windows and wondering what had we done?
If ever there was a "winter of our discontent," it was 78-79. I remember forlornly straddling a huge icy pile left by the snowplow at the end of our driveway with no way to get a car in or out. Despite my vivid memories, the National Weather Service records say that the previous year was even worse, and we had a string of three record-setting winters in a row.
Certainly, it's not startling to learn that we have bad winters in Illinois, but those in the late 70's stick out in my mind. They made me think of the "Great Chicago Blizzard of 1967." They still talk about that one in the Windy City, so I wanted to see how bad it was down here in Forgottonia. Chicago got 20", which shut down everything, including O'Hare. Of course, when that airport caught a cold, the whole country sneezed. We "only" got 9" but that was enough to completely close the highways and the county roads.
People stranded with their cars in Chicago Blizzard of 1967
As I write this, I am reminded of stories I used to hear from Old Timers about the winter of 1936. The whole year had freaky weather, and the winter was one that still holds many records for the coldest cold and the snowiest snow.
So, when we get a measly few dozen inches of snow and another Polar Vortex dive bombs us, just remember that it has been worse, and we have chosen to live in Illinois, so there's nobody to blame but ourselves (and Mother Nature).
But we should also remember that it will be April in exactly three months. So, put on your best long johns, throw another log on the fire, and find a good book to read. This, too, shall pass.