Here is what people were saying a few weeks ago, “I guess we will have a green Christmas in 2023. “I don’t mind a little snow from time to time”. “Crops do better when the land has had a winter blanket of snow”. “I am just glad I don’t have to shovel the stuff. “These mild days point to climate change, for sure”.
What a surprise when a winter snowstorm rolled into Southwestern Ontario on January 12th. People pulled on their winter coats and headed for refuge at home.
Darkness fell and a mixture of rain and snow pelted icy windows. I awoke after midnight to the sound of sirens rescuing people who refused to reduce speed. Later, thumps and bumps signaled that snowplows were clearing roads and driveways. Indeed, it seemed to have the makings of an old-fashioned winter storm.
As I awoke in the semi-darkness and prepared for the day, the storm and wind abated, but rain was making slush of everything. No doubt, planes would be grounded. I worried that my brother and sister-in-law might be enroute already from Cuba where they had fled Canada in search of sunshine.
In contrast to the present, our country was once a land of ice and snow from early November until late March. We were hearty people brandishing snow shovels and clad in sturdy boots, heavy coats, warm mittens, and bright winter scarves. A favourite pastime was reminiscing around the fireplace about the arduousness of living in Canada through fierce snowstorms.
I was a young teacher in London when a giant storm ripped through the area. I had managed to make it to school and was preparing for class when a telephone call alerted me that my sister, who was close to giving birth, was being transferred by ambulance from a small town an hour’s drive north to an awaiting physician at a hospital in our city. The stormy trip took much over the usual hour before arriving at its destination. I will never forget worrying my way through my teaching as the storm choked the roads and blinded city drivers. Finally, I received a call that a beautiful baby girl had arrived in the early afternoon of January 26th. Soon after the birth, the new father arrived at the hospital as the roads closed behind him. What followed was seven stormy days before safe travelling was restored and the little family headed for home. People had been stranded far and wide and newspapers proclaimed the calamity of the great snowstorm of January 1971. Now that’s an old-fashioned snowstorm!
-Sister Jean Moylan, CSJ
