Peaceable Man Files #61: Snow Days and Radio Days

Random musings on my vagabond existence in the Endless Mountains of Pennsylvania and wherever else life takes me.

Last weekend’s big snowstorm, and all the hullabaloo in the runup to it, put me in mind of the old days growing up in the 1960s and 1970s when foot-deep snowstorms were not the exception but the rule.

Back then we went into winter expecting to get at least a couple big storms that would close roads and bring our rural Pennsylvania neighborhood to a standstill. It was important always to be prepared for a blizzard because you never knew when one was going to blow in.

As much as we complain today about weather forecasts being wrong much of the time, they’re a heck of lot more accurate than they were fifty years ago. Back then, there were no seven-day forecasts. We were lucky to get a day or two days’ warning of an approaching snowstorm.

With such little advance notice, there wasn’t much time to stock up on groceries. When a storm hit, we had to make do with what was in the refrigerator and freezer. Somehow, we got through. No one starved. No one died.

Compare that to last week when everyone—I mean everyone—was talking about the monster storm that was heading our way. When Rachael and I went to our local Aldi to stock up, entire shelves were bare. They had no eggs. No milk. You would have thought the apocalypse was coming.

So much was different back then when it came to winter weather. Because snow was such an everyday part of our Pennsylvania winters, we were less scared of it, less ruffled by it. Sure, it was an inconvenience, especially if you needed to get to work.

You couldn’t work from home back then, after all. Front-wheel-drive cars and all-weather tires hadn’t yet been invented. So put on those studded tires, grit your teeth, and hope for the best. And if the car begins to swerve on an icy spot, remember to turn into the skid!

As for schools closing on snow days … well, it didn’t happen a lot. Unlike today, the mere threat of the white stuff wasn’t enough to keep the school bus from coming around. Heck, back then the drivers would put heavy-duty metal chains on the bus tires. It made for a bumpy ride to school, but we got there.

Nope, you needed a really big snowstorm like the one we had over the weekend to close school. Six inches of snow wouldn’t do it. Eight inches—maybe. Ten inches or more—definitely.

So that’s what we kids used to pray for. Oh, please let the snowstorm that’s coming be big enough to cancel school. Please, please, please.

How did we find out about the approaching storm a day or two before it hit?

Well, we couldn’t check our phones because there weren’t any smartphones back then. We couldn’t go to the school website because there was no World Wide Web.

But there was the radio.

Every home had an AM/FM radio. Ours was a Zenith, stationed beneath the microwave on the kitchen counter. Normally, our mother would have music playing on the radio on school mornings when we got up. But on bad weather days, she would tune into local WNPV radio (1440 AM) for its school closing announcements.

WNPV had a catchy jingle that accompanied its weather announcements. More than fifty years later, I still find myself singing that jingle on snowy days. It went like this (listen here if you’re feeling nostalgic)—

Has the weather gone and cancelled every dance held? Every class?

Will the meeting go as scheduled or subsist?

Well, please don’t call the station, ‘cause we got that information

On this good old-fashioned cancellation list.

Huddled over our steaming bowls of oatmeal, my siblings and I would listen breathlessly to hear whether our school number was among those that were closed. If it was—hurrah!

Freedom!

Upstairs we would go to strip off our school clothes, pull on our winter gear, and get ready for a day of fun outside in the snow.

Me (on right) with my siblings and our horse Lady.

What joy. And what made it even more joyful was the fact that it didn’t happen very often. Most of the time, the message we heard on the radio on bad weather days was the dreaded, “All Philadelphia public and parochial schools are open today.”

This past weekend’s big storm took me back to a time when snow ruled our winters, when the unpredictability of the elements played a bigger part in our day-to-day lives, and that was both a challenging thing and a thrilling thing.

The two go together, don’t they—challenges and thrills?

In the meantime, I'm hearing of another possible snowstorm on the horizon next week. Better stock up on the milk.