All this talk of a “historic” snowstorm brings back vivid memories of the original “big one” ? the blizzard of 1967. With no early warning, no time to prepare, no cell phones, computers, or technology to lean on, we survived by our wits and the kindness of strangers.
My family lived on a busy street in the far southern suburbs where the constant snowfall left a line of stranded cars in its wake. No one was going anywhere and by nightfall, those who hadn’t walked out early sat in their cars waiting for snow plows that never came. My parents took in three motorists and we shared dinner, blankets and pillows with total strangers. We only had one bathroom and no extra provisions, but there was plenty of room in our modest home for strangers in need. In the meantime my sister, stranded at school and taken in by a classmate’s family, was on the receiving end of blizzard blessings.
By the third day our one remaining houseguest was a steel executive who still could not get home to Indiana. I remember his polished presence, his stories about a son at Dartmouth and his extensive travels ? very heady stuff to my young ears. His gratitude for our hospitality was heartfelt. When we could finally dig out his car and the way home was clear, I felt we were losing a member of the family. I will never forget the huge bouquet of roses he sent my mother that Valentine’s Day.
He continued to send her flowers for years afterward ? a reminder to me of the kindness that binds us all. Our story was played out in homes across Chicago, where thousands of acts of kindness and heroism brought people together in countless, unplanned ways. Let’s hope the “big one” we’re about to face brings out the kindness and humanity that makes us strong.
— Kathy Gucfa, Chicago
