As a child, we had a blizzard one year that closed schools for a week. After spending a day with all of us clearing the driveway, the rest of the week was spent digging snow forts, having snowball fights, and then trying to dry out and warm out.
In college, I worked downtown over Christmas break. A storm hit the last day before Christmas. The boss sent us home early and I jumped on my bus home about 3:30. I got on at the first stop, but the bus was full. I was standing in the middle of bus. We turned down passengers at every other stop. I’m not sure how those people got home. I stood in a freezing, crowded bus dreaming of my cozy robe until I got home at 7:30 pm.
In the 1990s, I was living just East of Cleveland when a freak storm moved in. We woke up on Sunday to no power, a 50 degree house, and 5 feet of wet snow on the ground. And a broken snowblower. We got another foot of snow each day for the next 4 days.
I used quilts to close off the kitchen/family room and started a fire in the fireplace. Them set a Corningware percolator near the fire. We managed to keep those rooms about 60 degrees for the 3 days until the power came on.
When I moved to California, one of the happiest moments was selling that damn snowblower!
Now, if I want to see snow I can choose to drive 3 hours to the Sierras, safely stay warm, and get home to sun and warm.