In January 1996, 20.2 inches of snow fell on New York City. I know this because I just googled the stats and because I lived here in NYC in 1996.
Today, we’re bracing for another storm. If you watch the news, you know it’s the storm to end all storms and it’s named “Juno.” Names aren’t just for hurricanes anymore and since a named storm raises anxiety, “Juno” is better click bait than simply saying “it’s going to snow.”
During most of the day, the sun was kind of out. There were flurries flying on the wind and nothing was sticking. Had I been home to watch TV, I’m sure I’d have seen local news teams standing in front of the city’s salt storage or in front of a parked plow because there wasn’t any snow to stand in front of but the reporting must go on. And then I bet the coverage cut away to pandemonium in a supermarket.
Bread aisles up and down the east coast are empty. I guess people crave carbs and refined wheat when it snows.
I remember when a big snow storm, for me at least, was a big social event not a news event.
There’s a magic moment in New York City, when the snow baffles the noise. When they’re aren’t any cars out and plows haven’t made a pass, there are no motors, or horns and any city noise left to float through the air gets wrapped into the snow. People hunker down so if you’re out and about, your feet forge their mark on the pristine path and the crackle and crunch of your boots on the snow is the loudest thing around.
In 1996, I lived in a 6th floor walk up on the Upper East Side and had friends across the hall and on the floor below. We hung out in good weather and bad and on the night of the big storm, we owned First Avenue. Looking both ways was about dodging snowballs, not traffic. We ran circles and walked shoulder to shoulder in the center of the avenue and plopped down to make snow angels and more snow angels. Back home we gathered with pink cheeks, chilled finger tips and snow dampened jeans to sip red wine and wonder if we’d have to go to work the morning.
“Juno” got a late start so I think that perfect snow moment will probably arrive around 2AM when I’m tucked warm in my bed. And the friends I shared the 1996 blizzard with are now spread across the city and the country and by the middle of the night tonight, will hopefully be happily asleep dreaming of snow days.
So tonight, I’m turning off the news. I’m going to read and maybe watch a movie and sip red wine and remember the perfect pink-cheeked abandon of a magic snow moment.
Times Square, NYC Snowmageddon 2015
margagogo 