Whither the weather?

Probably the most frequently consulted authority on weather here in the New Millennium is the Weather Channel. It has a plethora of data from a variety of sources which it gives to its personnel, all trained in the mystical arts of meteorology, and from all of these resources, it delivers, between the many commercials also seen here, forecasts, both immediate and long-range.

There is just one thing wrong with this rosy scenario: It requires a bit of intuition to put up an accurate forecast, and that is sometimes lacking. Take the storm that left us with around a foot of snow over the Christmas holiday. None of us ever doubted that the storm would hit. Its arrival was predicted, and the time it would come was set in stone. So people all over the U. S. were braced, but until the storm actually showed up, a lot of people didn’t know exactly what they were bracing for.

Take the track the storm would take when the low moved off the East Coast into the Atlantic. When the storm was still trying to wash California into the Pacific, the New England states were put on notice; a possible nor’easter was out there. But then, before the storm took aim at the mid-west, someone at the Weather Channel decided the storm would veer farther out to sea, so the predicted storm wouldn’t materialize in New England. And everyone breathed easier, until a day or so before Christmas, when the nor’easter was suddenly back on, and Monday saw a lot of the big Eastern Cities either digging out of a fairly sizable snow, or waiting their turn to do so.

Now you see the limitations of all that modern technology. So, what’s a body to do if an accurate forecast is needed? Well, there are the tried and true methods perfected-if that is the right word-by our ancestors.

One such source is Frank Crum. Frank, who is noted for his ability both as a preacher and as a columnist for the Express, is also schooled in reading signs that properly interpreted, will yield a long-range forecast. So, each year, around September, once the proper signs have been noted, Frank writes up his winter forecast in one of his columns. Unlike the Weather Channel, however, Frank will warn his readers that results may vary.

Then there is the Old Farmer’s Almanac. This publication has been offering up weather predictions a year at a time for well over 200 years. And it sometimes even gets some of them right. Take the forecast for the first part of December, delivered in the form of a verse: “Mild relief briefly-cold and snowy chiefly. Breath makes vapors as we yield ice scrapers.” Pretty much spot on, I’d say.

Which brings us to my favorite year-long forecasting method, the Ruling Days. The last six days of the old year and the first six days of the new year are each said to rule a particular month’s weather. The beauty of trying to make sense of this system is that by the time that month rolls around, you not only won’t remember what the ruling day for it forecast, you probably will have forgotten what a ruling day is.

The Weather Channel should have it so good.

Getting’ Ready for Christmas Day

Christmas gifts probably stem from the story of the magi who came to worship the newly-born Savior bearing gold, frankincense and myrrh. Yes, gift giving gets overblown at times, but it can be a good thing when the recipients are not expecting any really cool gifts.

Paul Simon is the bearer of such a gift this year. Though he is far removed from his Tom and Jerry days, the name he and Art Garfunkel first performed under, he has new music out, including a Christmas song, the title of which I have borrowed for this column.

This song,” Getting Ready for Christmas Day”, is taken from a sermon given by an African American preacher, J M Gates, recorded in the 30’s. The song also samples another sermon given by Preacher Gates, in which Preacher Gates suggests that the undertaker may be your Santa Claus. So, as this might suggest, this isn’t a happy Christmas tune.

The singer works two jobs so he can afford to buy Christmas gifts. His nephew is in Iraq for the third time and looks to be in the Afghan war by Christmas. Still, the singer accepts all with a stoicism that would do us all proud in a time of economic hardship and the continuing war on terror. All in all, another fine effort from Rhymin’ Simon.

Giving the unexpected gift is a wonderful thing, in and of itself. I got to do that way back when I was in the U. S. Army, serving in West Berlin. Every year, our company, Company C, hosted a Christmas party for a school that housed children with special needs. We spared no expense in raising money for this yearly tradition, and managed to give every child a new gift each year at a party they all looked forward to.

But there was another opportunity and that was for volunteers to just be there at the party to greet each child with a hug and to ensure they all had a good time. I was understandably, at least in my mind, reluctant to get involved in this part of the project.

I didn’t speak the children’s language very well. In fact, I hardly spoke it at all. I could barely manage to make myself misunderstood in German. But something made me go, anyway. I had one angle and a Polaroid camera, and I planned to take pictures of the children as they got their gifts. And I planned to do my best with my limited ability to communicate with them.

Turns out I had nothing to worry about. One of the children, a boy maybe 10 or so, became my beste freund, and accompanied me throughout the building for the duration of the party. I took a lot of pictures, and surrendered the photos to the children or to their care takers. Again, I was unsure of how this was going over, but I was having a ball, and that was unexpected.

At the end of the party, one of the school’s personnel came over to me and expressed thanks for the photos I’d taken. He assured me the children’s parents were all very happy and that this had made the party extra special.

And that was my special gift for that Christmas.

Another week, another snow storm

Looking at the calendar, I see that we are entering the third week of December. Looking outside, I see, for the second time in a week we’re snowed in. Okay, I have been around long enough to know snow this time of year isn’t a rare occurrence. I’m a double-nickel fellow myself-birth year was 55-and I remember the first few winters from the early 60’s when we’d sometimes get scenes like this before Halloween.

Still, what makes this year’s weather a bit sneaky is it was so warm for so long. You know, the weather fakes you out with all that Indian summer, temps in the 60’s right up through November, and when you aren’t looking, sucker punches you with really cold weather and snow. Oh, well, nothing to do but sit back and hope that this doesn’t last into April.

One really rude surprise is the return of slick roads. This isn’t Atigun Pass, and we aren’t Ice Road Truckers. Heck, if it was, we’d all be prepared. But when so much time passes between really good snows, you forget the little tricks that make driving on slick roads a little safer. Here’s one that was passed on to me by my cousin.

If you’re driving an automatic-and that’s almost everybody- when you try to stop quickly on icy surfaces, the car wants to slide. But that’s because the transmission is still applying torque to the drive wheels. If you put the car in neutral as you apply the brakes, the car will come to a smooth, straight stop.

For added safety, practice the panic stops, and get yourself used to putting the car in neutral as you apply the brakes. This could keep videos of you careening wildly as you try in vain to bring your vehicle under control off youtube.

On the plus side, it is December, and we are so close to Christmas. Yes, the holiday is as commercial as it ever was, but that goes with the season. Snow in December can help mitigate all that’s bad about Christmas, and help emphasize all you find right about the Yuletide.

My favorite traditions are certain Noels and television specials. Do I need to list A Christmas Carol, A Charlie Brown Christmas, Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer, or It’s a Wonderful Life, to name but a few f our best-loved holiday shows?

Oh, then there’s the chance to take your sled to the top of a really high hill and try to break the sound barrier on your way down. Just remember that if you aren’t as young as you once were, old bones break more easily and take more time to heal.

That said, if you like extreme sledding, you might want to join the daredevils on Grapevine, where the locals sometimes patiently wait for a good snowfall, then throw the sleds in the back of a four-wheel drive truck, and drive to the top of Island Creek Mountain. From there it’s a long, hairy cruise down several miles of a curvy mountain road.

Okay, I only did this one time myself, but it’s not like I’m afraid to go again. It’s just that I don’t want to deprive anyone else of their chance if there aren’t enough sleds to go around.

The Great Snowstorm of Feb., 1985

Let the first snow of the season hit and the topic will soon become memorable snows from days gone by. The older you get, the more apt you are to engage in this sort of reverie, and for obvious reasons: You can remember things from several decades ago, even if you aren’t sure what you had for breakfast this morning.

I may be wrong but I am convinced that the worst snow ever to hit Pike County was the one that hit in February of 1985. This storm that started in on Monday left over three feet of snow in its wake, it left a large number of people without power and, to top it all off, it was cold.

I worked for the county then in Solid Waste. I lived on Coal Run Hill. By Tuesday morning, when I got up to go in to work, I heard on the radio how dire the situation was. Most roads in the county were shut down, and no one was to get out. People were stranded in Pikeville with no way home and the county was organizing four-wheel drive trucks to shuttle people back to their places of residence.

I decided to see if I could get to work since I only had a few miles to go. The four-lane below Pikeville was completely deserted and was reduced to a two-lane road, as the passing lanes were snowed in, and, as Larry Webster, in his next Red Dog, observed, those open lanes were just wide enough for an economy car.

One of the first people I saw after I got to the courthouse was Fuzzy Keesee. Fuzzy was between gigs as sheriff then and when he came in, someone asked him where he’d been that morning. Casually, Fuzzy replied that he’d been over on Pawpaw campaigning. Of course, that bought a laugh, but to tell the truth, I’m still not certain that he wasn’t serious.

First night in, around 8 pm, some people called Judge Patton to complain about the electricity. Paul tried to explain that he had no control over when the power came back on, but the sad tale of a household with no heat moved him to send me and a co-worker out with wood from his own supply. So we bravely ventured forth in the Judge’s Cherokee to where these people lived. We pulled up in their driveway, turned off the key, and watched, wide-eyed, as the power came back on. No, they said, we don’t need the wood now. Thanks, anyway.

Howard Justice led the group of workers/coffee drinkers. The coffee supply gave out on the second day; well, all but for the de-caf. We were desperate enough to actually drink it. Howard made the second pot, still full, when we got some more of the hi-test, whereupon Howard poured out the just-brewed de-caf. “Why’d you do that?” I asked. Howard just looked at me like I was crazy and made some hi-test. “Because!” he said, and that was that.

By Thursday, the crises played itself out. Everyone got power back, the roads were gradually cleared, and everyone got to go home. Everyone but the Judge, that is. He stayed until Saturday. But that’s why he got the big bucks.