Two winters ago, before we moved from Indiana\u00a0to Massachusetts, I wrote the following reflection on the storm that shut Indianapolis (and much of the Midwest)\u00a0down. Now in our second North Shore winter in Massachusetts, I found it interesting to take a look back on the not-so-distant past. Some things remain the same: Friends, community, Arctic winds, and hunkering down when the going gets tough. \u2013Julianna<\/em><\/h6>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
I stand in the frigid kitchen and watch my husband don his navy blue parka, purchased while he was a graduate student nearly 15 years ago, the winter he moved to Indiana from Louisiana. The way he tells it, when he arrived at Purdue University back in 1998, he didn\u2019t even own a winter coat. He didn\u2019t need one. South Louisiana temps rarely reached below freezing, and even when they did, Stefan relished the cold air, having grown up in a place so hot you couldn\u2019t sleep.<\/p>\n
I recall his stories of that time: restless nights without air-conditioning during summers working bridge construction, even though his family owned a heating and cooling business. Meals were prepared in a detached outdoor kitchen, a sort of culinary garage, so the main house wouldn\u2019t become even more unbearable. There were also tales of snakes and alligators, encounters that may or may not have been entirely true, but that continue to make our children shiver with delight when he tells them, no matter how often.<\/p>\n
This morning, when Stefan puts the parka on, I wonder if he is still happy to live in a place that gets so cold in the winter, if only by Louisiana standards: Typical Indiana winters might see a few single-digit days, but nothing like this morning, -13 degrees Fahrenheit at sunrise, with wind chill plunging it to -40. The news anchors and meteorologists tell us it hasn\u2019t been this cold in over 20 years. Such a phenomenon has a name: They call it a polar vortex, this swath of cold Arctic air swooping down into the US, settling across the Midwest, shutting down entire cities, even states.<\/p>\n
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<\/a><\/p>\nJust before the onslaught, the Sunday evening before the kids were supposed to return to school after winter break, a snowstorm had left behind almost a foot of snow. And then the winds came, along with plunging thermometer readings, which made it untenable to spend more than just a few minutes outside. So we hunkered down inside, watching with dread as the lights flickered, looking out the back windows anxiously as the snow weighted down tree branches brushing against our power line. We pulled our sweaters and blankets closer. All over town pockets of residential areas and individual homes had already lost power, leaving many stranded in cooling homes, unable to drive to warmth on nearly impassable roads as the snow began to drift.<\/p>\n
I begged Stefan to go out and try to knock the snow off those branches, anything to reduce the possibility of losing power, as the thermometer continued to dip towards zero. He was skeptical, but I was desperate. Finally he obliged, and for the next couple of hours, the flickering seemed to stop.<\/p>\n
Friends of ours just a mile away were among those who had lost power, but not mobility\u2014they had a 4-wheel drive SUV\u2014so we suggested they come here. It was heartening to know they received many other invitations for refuge; I hoped that the thousands of other city residents without power had equal opportunities. I couldn\u2019t help but wonder what those without invitations did: those who didn\u2019t know their neighbors\u2014a sad truth for far too many of us these days, even when we\u2019ve lived in a place for many years.<\/p>\n
Moments later our friends and their two children arrived, stomping off the snow and cold inside our front door, armed with food from their ironically thawing freezer and refrigerator. We cooked up a collaborative feast. Our new potatoes roasted with their cherry tomatoes; our pasta, and their roasted pork for the non-vegetarians; their cilantro salad dressing, our mixed greens\u2014right down to the past-their-prime Christmas cookies.<\/p>\n
![\"IMG_1395\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.juliannathibodeaux.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/IMG_1395.jpg?resize=300%2C225&ssl=1\")
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![\"IMG_1388\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.juliannathibodeaux.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/IMG_1388.jpg?ssl=1\")
<\/a><\/p>\nJust before the onslaught, the Sunday evening before the kids were supposed to return to school after winter break, a snowstorm had left behind almost a foot of snow. And then the winds came, along with plunging thermometer readings, which made it untenable to spend more than just a few minutes outside. So we hunkered down inside, watching with dread as the lights flickered, looking out the back windows anxiously as the snow weighted down tree branches brushing against our power line. We pulled our sweaters and blankets closer. All over town pockets of residential areas and individual homes had already lost power, leaving many stranded in cooling homes, unable to drive to warmth on nearly impassable roads as the snow began to drift.<\/p>\n
I begged Stefan to go out and try to knock the snow off those branches, anything to reduce the possibility of losing power, as the thermometer continued to dip towards zero. He was skeptical, but I was desperate. Finally he obliged, and for the next couple of hours, the flickering seemed to stop.<\/p>\n
Friends of ours just a mile away were among those who had lost power, but not mobility\u2014they had a 4-wheel drive SUV\u2014so we suggested they come here. It was heartening to know they received many other invitations for refuge; I hoped that the thousands of other city residents without power had equal opportunities. I couldn\u2019t help but wonder what those without invitations did: those who didn\u2019t know their neighbors\u2014a sad truth for far too many of us these days, even when we\u2019ve lived in a place for many years.<\/p>\n
Moments later our friends and their two children arrived, stomping off the snow and cold inside our front door, armed with food from their ironically thawing freezer and refrigerator. We cooked up a collaborative feast. Our new potatoes roasted with their cherry tomatoes; our pasta, and their roasted pork for the non-vegetarians; their cilantro salad dressing, our mixed greens\u2014right down to the past-their-prime Christmas cookies.<\/p>\n
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