For the past week or so, we've been "snowed-in." I've been out a few times, to go to the bank and post office, and to the grocery store. But, other than clearing the sidewalk, we have mostly stayed in and watched the weather from a warm house. I have never been a person to require a lot of entertaining, and I usually have plenty of things to do, inside or out, so I don't mind the confining weather all that much. But, that said, I still have tinges of cabin fever.
I was born in the midst of a snow storm in January of 1940. Somehow though, even with the deep snow on the roads, my Dad found a way to get to town and bring home nurse Ethel Warren, and later drove back to town to bring Dr. Greene out to our farm to help me into the world. So, though I don't remember it, I had an early introduction to being snowed-in. Two or three hours later, across the hill, Nancy was being born to the Ray and Zula Patterson family, and they found a way to get Dr. Edwards out from Rogers to the farm to welcome her into the world, too. So both of us started our lives in a snow-bound situation, but at the same time in a situation where you had to get out and about to deal with necessary things despite the snow and ice.
Actually I have never encountered a time when we were absolutely snowed-in. To us, being snowed-in meant first that getting the car out of our driveway was a daunting challenge. If the car couldn't go, we considered ourselves snowed-in. But, if we really, really needed to go, then the horses or the tractor were always able to step in to help. Being snowed-in meant that we probably would spend more time than usual in the house, but our occupation as a dairy farm family didn't allow just "staying in." Even when the weather was icy and windy and shivering cold, the cows still had to be milked and fed, water had to be drawn from the well and carried to the house, wood had to be brought in for the fires, eggs had to be gathered and the hens watered and fed. Life had to go on, even when we were snowed-in.
I sometimes wonder what would happen to us today if we were suddenly transported back to 1944, and we found ourselves snowed-in on a farm out from town, with no TV to turn to, no phones to communicate with, and with no electricity in the house? Would we be tempted to see ourselves as "stuck out here with nothing to do?" Sometimes I think it is good for us to be reminded that living didn't always depend on having our advanced gadgets. The thousands of generations of human beings who lived before us somehow found life to be interesting and satisfying and exciting, even before the appearance of electronic gadgets a few years ago. When our usual entertainments are not available to us, what do we have inside our heads as resources for living and doing and enjoying?
Actually if our imaginations haven't gone dead, being snowed-in may even provide welcome opportunities. Yesterday my wife read to me a magazine snippet about a young boy who had been snowed-in at home. When he returned to school, his teacher asked, Johnny, did you use your time off from school constructively? He answered, "Oh, yes ma'am, I prayed for more snow!" When you have learned to entertain yourself, and have interests to pursue, and an imagination to unleash, being snowed-in may not be at all bad.
Even in bad weather, we kids found things to do inside the house. We played table games like Dominoes, and board games like Checkers and Chinese checkers, Monopoly and Game of the States. We put together puzzles, usually pictures of great airplanes in flight; we played Hide the Thimble, I Spy, Mother May I, and even hide and seek. We made candy, and popcorn, and popcorn balls with sorghum molasses, and chocolate fudge with walnuts.
And we made music, singing, playing the piano and guitar and mandolin. And we worked on inventions we hoped to build some day. We also talked and kidded each other, and dreamed up stuff we hoped to do some day! Some people might think life back then had to be boring. No, boredom is too boring to mess with. We were too busy with our interesting stuff to be bored, even when we were snowed-in.
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Editor's note: Jerry Nichols, a native of Pea Ridge, is an award-winning columnist, a retired Methodist minister with a passion for history. He is vice president of the Pea Ridge Historical Society. He can be contacted by e-mail at [email protected], or call 621-1621.
Editorial on 12/18/2013