A Harrowing Experience
An airline pilot once described his career flying big
commercial aircraft as,"...years of tedium interspersed with moments of
terror." I feel the same way about being retired. You
might describe it as endless days of hum-drum (chores, scheduled activities,
family contacts, shopping and waiting), punctuated by moments of panic (sudden medical
events, lost keys, social anxiety).
One does not often describe an experience as
"Harrowing", but I find it an excellent word, and one worthy of our
recent brush-with-certain-death this past Sunday night. You might
recall that the forecast from our crack team of Boston meteorologists
were unanimous in their certainty that the "wintery mix" of
precipitation would affect the areas West of Boston, beginning late Sunday
evening. We were assured that the snow would amount to a mere dusting
to 1 inch overnight. Thus informed with the best weather knowledge
available, we decided to go, as planned at 2pm, to see our grandson, Vinny, perform in a matinee presentation of the play "Into the Breeches," at
Worcester Academy Performance Center.
It was a great show, and we loved every minute of the 2+
hrs. However, when it was time to go home, we were surprised to find that there
was a heavy snowstorm raging outside. I brushed about 2 inches of snow
off my van and began to head back to whence I came. I was calm.
I've driven in snow all my adult life and though I don't enjoy it as much as
the old days, I am still confident of my driving skills in harsh weather.
I'm no stranger to hilly terrain either, but as you may know, Worcester has
hills that are ski-lift steep.
Within a few blocks after turning out of Academy parking lot,
we found ourselves looking down a hill that reminded me of that first high spot
on a roller coaster, just before it hurtles down the track. There is a moment when you look down that vertical drop, and realize
that you have made a big mistake. Being manly, I stifled my roller
coaster scream and proceeded to descend. Did I mention that the snow on
the ground was slick as cat shit on oil? There were a few cars parked (or
more likely, stranded) by the side and my minivan kept slipping and drifting
dangerously toward them. About halfway down, I was losing traction and a
feeling of panic began to intrude on my navigational confidence. (Judy
later confided to me that this was the point that she was certain that we were
going to die). We came close to colliding with multiple vehicles,
but managed somehow to make it to the bottom unscathed and intact.
It took us another hour to make it back to Wellesley, no one
was going more than 25 MPH on the slippery roads. Fortunately, there was strong drink in the
pantry to calm our frayed nerves. In retrospect, it was an experience
that reminded us never to trust the weather forecasts in winter, and that there
are still moments of terror hiding under a few inches of wet snow.
Perhaps this experience was not life-threatening, but it
certainly was harrowing. I heard on the news that there were more than
eighty crashes in the Worcester hills that night. We were lucky not to be
in that number.
DEN December 11, 2022
