Two things:
1) It is crazy that I can talk to you about a major event that happened 20 years ago.
2) Saying "the Blizzard of '93" makes me feel like a character in a book about American pioneers.
These pictures illustrate how ill-prepared we are in Alabama
for this weather. I'm wearing an old coat of my mom's and her
gloves. Josh is wearing socks over his hands to keep them warm.
And of course we didn't own a real sled but made do.
And though I'm sure it was stressful for my parents and something of an inconvenience with four children, I don't remember any stress coming from them. I think I remember some worry about having enough firewood to last; it's all a big adventure when you're a kid. I remember venturing out on our porch and wading through snow that was knee deep, something I'd never done. I remember sledding. I remember my mom and dad dragging our mattresses into the living room in front of the big (pioneer-sized) stone fireplace where we all slept together to stay warm. I remember reading a copy of Treasure Island by the light of the fire and an old oil lamp, previously only used for decoration.
And the best memories of all, are lying there on the mattresses at night and listening to my dad tell stories. I think this was the first time we heard the names of the Bentley boys and of all the mischief they got into. It was a lot of mischief. But we laughed and laughed, and just this past Christmas, we all sat in the living room, and my brothers told stories about all the crazy things they'd done running around the neighborhood wild and free, getting into trouble. The legacy continued.
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