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January’s sense of humor
By GERIANNE WRIGHT
Staff Writer
When I walked out of the house this morning, I had this feeling, like the hope of spring was in the air, but you know, in the back of your mind, it’s actually just one of January’s cruel jokes. We ought to be used to January’s sick sense of humor. It is, after all, named for the two-faced Roman god, Janus.
But it was hard to find anything funny about January 1998 — sick or otherwise — when a tomb of ice encased the region and gave us future bragging rights akin to Buffalo and the Blizzard of ’77 (and ’79 and ’84 and ’88 and, oh, you get the picture).
The Ice Storm, as it came to be known — in caps and with the article in front — brings back immediate images and impressions for those of us who lived through it. The Press-Republican’s special series on the storm, replete with personal narratives, has everyone giving a collective nod in remembrance: the stories were the same; the number of days without power one of the only variables.
I remember going to work the morning of Jan. 7, 1998. It was gray and rainy, kind of cold but not bitterly cold. By noon, people were leaving their offices at Plattsburgh State, where I also hang a part-time hat. Ice scrapers were brandished, and we all worked to hack our cars out of the half-inch thickness that had already coated everything. Keith Tyo, who was director of public relations at the time, and I shared amusing comments back and forth as we worked on our vehicles, which were parked next to one another. We joked about how typical it was for weird weather to hit when students weren’t on campus.
We wouldn’t be laughing for long. In fact, it was a blessing the students were on their winter break. Having 5,000 students slip-sliding their way across campus wouldn’t have been pretty.
You could actually call it serendipitous that the college was on winter break at the time. College facilities were used to provide food and shelter to emergency personnel and volunteers. The Angell College Center was used to house forest rangers, fire and rescue personnel, electrical and tree-trimming crews and Civil Air Patrol cadets.
College employees who were without power used bathroom and shower facilities in Memorial Hall and laundry facilities in various buildings.
The Field House was a base operation for a mobile field kitchen. Members of the Southern Baptist Convention Disaster Relief from Virginia set up in the gym and prepared meals for the American Red Cross; the National Guard then delivered meals to various shelters throughout northern New York.
Meanwhile, I had a 2-year-old and a 4-month-old at home. We had concerns when the power went out that we’d have to all snuggle together that first night, but we were among the fortunate in the city to have our power restored relatively quickly. I took the video camera outside to take images from the front and the back, showing how eerie our Oak Street neighborhood looked. I was amazed that you could see CVPH clearly over the tree line because suddenly, there was no tree line.
The girls were oblivious to what was happening. Margaret, my 2-year-old, only knew she wasn’t going to Sibley Hall, where she attended day care. Like the rest of us, she grew a little stir crazy.
My husband, P-R Design Editor Jack Downs, strapped on his crampons and walked to work over the ice-encrusted sidewalks and debris in the streets. The paper had to get out even if it wasn’t going to be delivered. We wondered out loud how 12-year-old paper carriers were going to be able to get the job done, but after the initial onslaught, they did it and did it admirably.
When we were finally able to emerge Jan. 12, the first thing Jack and I did was go to CVPH to donate blood. We didn’t know what else we could do to help; that seemed to be one thing we actually could do. Several other people had the same idea. And sitting around the waiting area of the blood bank, we began to hear the stories we’re reading right now, 10 years later.
Like the Kennedy assassination and 9/11, The Ice Storm of ’98 is one of those icons burned in your brain. You’ll be able to pull out dates, times and circumstances at will and picture with absolute clarity what you were doing and where.
January may be a cruel month, but up here, it serves as a reminder of the resiliency of spirit and the indomitable pluck of an entire region.
