10 Years Since a Superlative Snow

Throughout my time studying meteorology at Valparaiso University, I was constantly keeping an eye on the weather.  It was interesting when a major weather event occurred that had a higher than usual effect on common life, and everybody got talking about something in which I was gaining expertise, which gave me an interesting perspective at such time.

This week marks 10 years since a great example of such a weather event, the big Chicagoland snowfall of February 1-2, 2011.

At the end of that week, in my customary weekly e-mail I sent to family and friends back home, I wrote the following reflection, which I include here upon marking the 10th anniversary of that snow event:

So I do declare that we seem to have experienced a bit of history this past week here in Chicagoland.

With these words, I started giving an account of this event from the perspective of a ValpU student: "A saying goes, 'Everyone talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.' That statement took on an especially amplified meaning this week as a massive winter snow system swept across a huge swath of the United States, bringing the Chicagoland area one of its biggest blizzards of all time, with copious amounts of snow, and fearsome wind gusts.  For the Valparaiso University community, the storm brought the delights of a snow day, free of classes on Wednesday."  [Side note on what I wrote here: These words opened an article I wrote in The Torch, the Valparaiso University student newspaper.]

This was a pretty significant event, a time when everybody starts talking about the weather, beyond the people in the field of meteorology--and for us, it provided a great opportunity to observe the excitement of a significant weather system.  (You know, it amazes me how events like these bring attention to the field of meteorology, in which we keep busy observing the weather and talking about it among ourselves.)

Chicago-O'Hare Airport recorded 20.2 inches of snow in the snowstorm event that swept through a large swath of the nation.  That means this storm ranks up there among Chicago's all-time greatest snowfalls ever.  And the storm's gravity can also be measured by the fact that my old high school, OPRF[HS] closed for the first time due to weather in 32 years, and only the fifth weather-related closure in its 130+ year history.

That all is pretty striking.  In fact, taking that in almost caught me off guard--to think that we actually experienced a historic weather event.  I almost felt a little disappointed that I didn't take in the event fully with the realization that it was something historic, only happening once every generation.  (Maybe, though, my disappointment more stemmed out of the fact that I only casually noted the talk in the weather forecasts about a system coming over a week ago.  Or maybe it is also due to my having started to underestimate the storm's gravity when Professor Wolf showed us weather models on Tuesday morning that showed we might only get 5-10 inches, and that heavier snow bands would go northwest--which they did, which furthermore may have made me a tad bit disappointed that I couldn't have been around in Oak Park, closer to Chicago, to see what happened there, where I have the impression that the storm was more fierce.)

I feel there are some profound philosophical implications here.  I remember one particular episode of The Cosby Show, in which Theo is in the process of writing an essay about the March on Washington in 1963.  In the episode, he shares the essay with his relatives, who, in helping him improve his essay, share their experiences of that momentous day.  After hearing personal stories from that day, Theo says, "Wow.  It must have been great for you guys to have actually lived through history."  In response, one of his relatives says, "Theo, we weren't living through history.  We were just living our life at the time." (By the way, the quotations are paraphrases.)

Perhaps that is how we all approach these "historic" events.  We don't see them as "history" while in the midst of them, because we're simply living through the events as part of what just happens as we move along in life.  Only later do we come to realize how important these events are in the impact they had on the course of events in our lives.  

Reflecting back on the tragic events of September 11, 2001, I realize that at the time, I had no sense that what had happened that day would soon be regarded as having the same kind of profound impact upon the course of American history as the Pearl Harbor attack.

It makes me wonder what I'll think about this snowstorm event, or any other event that happens in my life, years after it happens.  How significant will I regard it, and what will I think about the degree to which it impacted the course of events in my life?  And what will the generations to come think of these events?  It's so profound to realize that we are a part of history in the making, and what happens in our lives will be part of what will we soon regard as history.

Being one who appreciates the significance of history, I think that's pretty exciting:  History isn't just something that happened long ago--it's also something that I'm living through now.  I can be part of exciting things, just like people were years back, in the midst of the American Revolution, the launching of the new Constitutional government, the American Civil War, the Roaring 20's, the Great Depression, World War II, and the Cold War.

And it all happens under the auspices of what is so aptly put in the words of Valparaiso University's unofficial school hymn, which I sing in my head every time I take in a great view of the Chapel of the Resurrection as I walk towards it heading toward the next thing in my life on campus: "O God our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, our shelter from the stormy blast, and our Eternal Home."

Thanks be to God!

Now back to my present-day writing:

This event certainly stands out memorably in my mind 10 years later, saying so because it was memorable in a good way.

I know the same can't be said for those who felt more acutely the sense of disruption, like the numerous commuters stranded on Lake Shore Drive who had to be evacuated.  A special news program I watched weeks later featured a woman who commuted regularly from the North Side of Chicago to a job in Oak Lawn, normally a 1-hour commute.  That day, it took her 13 hours to get home.

Among the notable meteorological aspects of this snow event closer to Chicago itself were strong winds clocked at nearly 70 mph and thundersnow, a rather rare phenomenon.  Later on, a conference call among meteorologists in Chicago decided to increase the total snowfall amount of the event to include snow from January 31.

I definitely sensed the storm was more intense by Chicago, and Northwest Indiana didn't get as much of its brunt.  At the time, I did feel a tad bit disappointed.  But I recognize that the event was still memorable even if the specific meteorological aspects weren't as powerful.  I also sense this experience was like when I'm asked to pose for a photo and someone snaps the shutter before I'm ready.  I wasn't in the mental frame of mind to realize how historic this storm would be, and take it in as such, only that it would be big.  As an aside, I recall watching the NBC Nightly News broadcast that day, and the Chicagoland snowfall was one of the major stories, with a reporter standing somewhere along the Magnificant Mile as I remember, along with unrest in Cairo of the 2011 Egyptian Revolution that would lead to the end of Hosni Mubarak's reign as Egyptian president--talk about events of historic magnitude.

At least I got to experience it.  My Dad, on the other hand, got stranded by it, in a sense, in, of all places, Orlando, where he had gone in days prior for a business trip.  My understanding is that he and his coworkers stayed there a little longer because they couldn't get a flight back.  So at least they got to work while many business operations were suspended in Chicagoland.

Another anecdote I remember is about butterfly wind chimes my Mom bought near Niagara Falls over ten years prior were hanging outside on the porch of our home.  So far as I can remember my Mom realized they were still outside as she went to bed, and decided to let them stay, and they were still there in the morning the next day.

It was nice to have the chance for classes to be suspended from that Tuesday afternoon and all day Wednesday, which was an opportunity to take it easy, get some extra rest, and have some fun.  My friends and I were especially glad that our very laborious physics lab class was suspended that Tuesday, which was right around the time the snow was forecast to get intense.

There was much talk about the behemoth nature of this weather system days prior.  Notably, the forecast models were spot on days in advance noting the system as it came onshore in California and predicting it would cross the country and be a major snow producer by the time it reached Chicagoland. A year later, NBC5 meteorologist Brant Miller remarked about how spot on the weather models were.

The snow started falling in the early afternoon on Tuesday, February 1, and got intense by 3-4 PM, with steady snowfall rates and strong winds whipping it around.  It was a scene of excitement in the weather center of Kallay-Christopher Hall as can only happen with a group of meteorology students in a major event like this.  At one point, a group of students launched a weather balloon to collect data on the atmospheric conditions.

While classes and other campus activities were suspended, St. Teresa's threw open its doors to welcome students into its student lounge space, part of the Ministry Life Center that had just been completed earlier that school year.  I went to St. Teresa's and spent time playing games like Scattegories, and enjoying pancakes.  I was there for a while, but was back in my accommodations and asleep by midnight.  As I heard later, the normal closing time for the student center was suspended on account of the snow and students were hanging out there late into the night.  I heard someone say that Father Kevin was delighted this big snow was a great opportunity for the student center to be used just as he envisioned, a place where students from all over campus could hang out and have fun.

The snow lingered into the next morning, and was mostly done by afternoon, as the lake-effect snow never really amounted to much, which was a primary factor in the decision to suspend classes and other campus operations.  I saw some colors in the sky to the west at the time of sunset.  There were piles of snow everywhere.

Since February 2 was Candlemas, and the usual Chapel service was suspended, I went to St. Teresa's for Mass.  A senior citizen couple came, having decided it was okay to venture out.  So it was those two, myself, and Father Kevin at Mass, the smallest crowd I've ever been apart of at Mass in a Church.

Once the snow wound down, I got to work on another report for the Torch.  The snow event had disrupted some intended plans for that week.  I ended up with the assignment to write a story on this snow's impact on campus, which I thoroughly enjoyed writing.  I mentioned how students had gone to St. Teresa's to have fun during that night.

Certainly, a big snow like this event caused some disruption to life as usual, which problematic for some.  Yet these types of events don't pose the same level of disruption as something like a flood or tornado, like the devastating tornadoes that would occur later that year in a southeastern outbreak and then the Joplin tornado in May.  Usually a big snow just means getting a break from work or school as usual, and just staying inside for some fun, and maybe outside to an extent within familiar environs.  That's how I ultimately remember this event a decade later, as a little break from the usual proceedings of my life at college and an opportunity to have some fun and take in the wonder of a big snowstorm.