There’s something freeing about a blizzard that keeps you inside

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 06/12/2016 (3240 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

On a recent Winnipeg winter tempest, I did what you’re not supposed to do during a snowstorm: something.

As I attempted to bus it to the office, I was reminded of Baltimore writer David Dudley’s eminently sensible New York Times essay, In Case of Blizzard, Do Nothing. 

“Unless you’re a plow driver or a parka-clad elected official trying to look essential, one doesn’t pretend to do battle against a blizzard,” Dudley writes. “You submit. Surrender. Hunker down. A snowstorm rewards indolence and punishes the go-getters, which is only one of the many reasons it’s the best natural disaster there is.”

One does pretend to do battle against a blizzard if one is a Winnipegger — and not necessarily because we’re a city of go-getters, either. We are a stubborn people, and we are also a tiny bit smug about our ability to survive inclement weather.

“What’s this ‘Snow Day’ you speak of?” we scoff, before telling the nearest child a story about having to traverse 50-foot snowbanks to get to school. Barefoot! Uphill!

To us, a snowstorm is not a natural disaster. It’s just the weather.

Hunkering down is for the soft. We are tough. We are impervious to snow and ice and wind. We will go about our day, Mother Nature be damned. 

It was in that spirit I told the lie all Winnipeggers tell themselves — “honestly, it’s not even that bad!” — as I zipped up my parka and laced up my most sensible boots.

My bus was late and then got stuck three times. Defeated, I turned around and went home, frozen mascara all over my cheeks.

This is foolish, of course. Imagine if everyone who could stay home during a snowstorm actually did stay home. There would be fewer car accidents, fewer slips and falls.

For that matter, imagine if everyone who could stay home when they got a cold actually did stay home. 

In many ways, snow days are a lot like sick days — real, incapacitating sick days in which you are unable to do anything but nap and maybe binge-watch something on Netflix. 

In our busy lives, there’s something freeing about a cancelled day, especially one in which circumstances beyond our control (weather, illness) assuage our guilt about doing nothing.

But is it really doing nothing if you’re reading a book, or snuggling with your dog, or making soup, or organizing a closet, or doing a crossword, or any other soul-feeding activity one might get up to if given an unscheduled day off at home?

For the perpetually stressed, a well-timed snowstorm may be just what the doctor ordered.

Of course, the luxury of a snow day is not afforded to essential-service providers, who must show up and do their jobs as best they can, often while dealing with a sodden and irritated public who should have just stayed home.

But blizzards can occasionally bring out the best in people. I spotted one of my neighbours shovel his own walkway and then continue on to his next-door neighbour’s. My Transit driver made sure to let me off where it was safe. Strangers commiserated about the weather, before telling each other to  “stay safe” and “stay warm.” 

Blizzards make work, to be sure. But before the process of digging out begins, before the snow is made dingy by salt and machines, there’s that moment of perfect stillness. When the wind stops howling and the snow stops biting, and everything is crisp and clean and quiet — a city tucked under a blanket. 

With nowhere to be and nothing to do, it’s possible to find that stillness within ourselves, too. In case of blizzard, prove nothing. 

jen.zoratti@freepress.mb.ca

Twitter: @JenZoratti