Ice: Storm and Cubes

Ice is dangerous.  It can down power lines.  It can crack hearts.  It can leave people stranded without warmth in cold temperatures.  It can break tree limbs that break fences and cars and roofs.  Growing up in the Midwest, snowstorms were normal; ice storms were to be feared – even more so down south.

As I sit here trees in our neighborhood are melting off the ice storm that is rumored to have ruined at least a third of Augusta’s tree population.  With the exception of a damaged fence and a few branches, our house and yard have remained unscathed.  And, thanks to living in a subdivision across from the substation and in which the power lines are all underground, we have been warm and happy and entertained the past two days.  And, as one guy at the grocery store said today, “Y’all, next Friday we won’t even remember this – it’s gonna be 78 – we’ll all be in flip-flops.”  He’s right.  We will have few long-lasting effects other than being even better prepared next time. 

However, the day before the ice rolled through here, another kind of storm hit -- small, personalized storm. It was the kind of storm that reminds you just how cruel and petty some people can be.  It was the kind of mini-storm that left no broken fences or car wrecks. It was subtle.  There were no icicles or damaged plants after this storm came by.  The fallout from this storm, however, will be longer lasting.

Earlier this week, a divorced dad that insisted his son spend a certain afternoon “with him” for the dad’s birthday.  The son initially didn’t want to go, but agreed because of the festivities and the birthday.  He was cajoled into going because it was the right thing to do – you know, Dad’s birthday and all.  Once the evening came, the son saw his dad for about ten minutes, and then the dad left the son with grandmother, telling the son he was going to a birthday celebration with his wife and kids.  The son was not invited. Son returned home defeated, angry, and hungry.  He had not had any supper because he thought he was going to the birthday dinner.  Despite his initial resistance to the event, he had gotten excited to see this part of his family. He felt included and happy.  But, his dad stopped by grandmother’s house, said a quick hi, and took off, leaving him behind; it was a small, personal ice storm that will have unfortunate lasting effects. 

We all have the capability to create an personal ice storm for someone else.  I vividly remember about six years ago when I was totally fed up with a student's excuses.  She came in to talk to me, and I just couldn't be kind.  I wasn't understanding.  I didn't say it out loud, but she knew that I was mad.  I froze her out.  After a class or two, I realized that not only had I given her the cold shoulder, but I could actually feel the lingering coldness of our encounter.  Before the end of the day, I had found her, apologized, listened to her, and been forgiven.  It was a slippery patch for sure, and I can tell you I've had more than one.  Haven't you?

There is a kind of ice that can grow in people’s lives.  It is a callousness that some people seem to be born with.  Maybe it is covetousness – saying “I’m so jealous” more often than “I’m so happy for you.”  It might be a desire to hoard instead of being generous. It is a self-centeredness that some cultivate as a defense against the world.  Perhaps it’s being so self-involved you omit someone from your birthday dinner. It might show up as hostility towards an innocuous but slightly annoying neighbor. It is an anger that is the result of unfortunate circumstances.  This ice has many manifestations.  We all have moments of ice in our lives, but as our communities do after winter storms, we really should try to learn from them.  From time to time we should take inventory and make sure we aren’t turning too cold when it comes to the things that really matter.

If we can learn anything from the big ice storm, it is that we need to recognize the bits of ice and slippery patches in every day life.  Everyone has a few cubes lurking around – so, instead of stock piling and letting such coldness overtake our interactions or lives, how about if we gather them all up and make drinks, get together, relax, and enjoy each other's company?

Frozen margaritas, anyone?

What Two Inches of Snow Can Do

The news down this way has almost melted.  We have a little bit of a snowboy trying to hang on in our front yard, but after 65 degrees this afternoon, he will be gone.  In relation to the southern snowstorm, there have been articles written this week about: politicians’ lack of common sense and general incompetence; teachers’ dedication and kindness to stranded students; southerners’ lack of driving skills; and, those who cared for and reached out to those who were stranded.

It’s funny to me how people want to blame politicians for the weather and its fall out.  Atlanta experienced an unfortunately timed wintry mix earlier this week; we in Augusta were waiting and hoping for a few flakes to play in.  No matter when the winter arrived, I fail to see how the governor or other politicians are to blame.  It was a matter of bad timing on the part of the gods of weather, businesses, government, and schools.  Of course, wherever you may live, it is probably de rigueur to blame others for whatever inconvenient or scary occurrences people encounter.  How about a little less of blame-mongering and a little more of: well, this is life?

New reporters’ surprise at teachers’ dedication always surprises me.  Teachers stayed overnight at schools with stranded students in and around Atlanta this past week.  Of course they did.  That’s the kind of people the majority of teachers are.  I’m annoyed that our society still marginalizes and vilifies teachers in so many subtle ways.  Teachers are not people whose work days end at 3:30 and who want summers off.  Teachers do so much more than anyone thinks they do, and they are continually on call for staying overnight in a snow storm or bolting their doors against school intruders.  I fail to understand why positive news stories about teachers are more surprising than the negative ones.  I guess it goes back to the old saying, “If teachers walked on water, the headline would read ‘Teachers refuse to swim.’”

I have lived in the South for almost fourteen years.  It is true that many southerners have no idea how to drive in the snow or on ice.  The reason for that would be (drumroll): the winters are mild down this way.  There’s very little ice and snow.  But really, who cares?  How is this observation an indictment of southern people?  It’s not.  I lived for 33 years in the Midwest and there are plenty of people up that way who careen off ice covered roads and end up in ditches when snow falls.  Really, it is those folks who should be shamed (if, in fact, anyone should be) about poor winter driving skills.  It is always harder to do something that you have little experience with – how about a little compassion?

Also, littering newsfeeds and feel-good story slots were the tales of those who housed strangers, who brought hot chocolate to the bumper-to-bumper interstate, who put their four-wheel drive vehicles to use.  Not a few of my southern friends touted such acts as “southern hospitality.”  I beg to differ.  Such acts are noble, kind, caring, but they have nothing to do with “southern hospitality.”  Such acts are borne of the thought patterns and generosity of human beings, regardless of where they grew up or currently reside.  Not everyone thinks to go out of his way to help others, but to be sure, there is no more or no less of such “hospitality” in the South than anywhere else.  Human beings have the capacity for great and small acts of kindness, and the snow reminded us of that this week.

Two inches of snow brought out the best in people around Atlanta.  Two inches of snow brought out some idiocy in our news commentators.  Two inches of snow caused a major city to shut down.  But, two inches of snow might just serve to remind us to embrace all parts of life, even the inconvenient ones; to remember that human beings are often decent and generous; and, to recall that we all are really linked in so many more ways that we care to admit.