Human Nature

Well, it wasn't as critical as the mad dash for the life jackets and boats on the Concordia, but it did jog my memory. October 4, 1987. The Saturday evening before was David's 17th birthday. I'd had a previously arranged dinner date with Dorothy and Barbara at a new restaurant on Rte 9. I can't remember the name right now, but it has since closed. I don't remember what I or anyone else had to eat, but I do recall I'd worn a blouse and was miserably cold all evening. The others had worn sweaters so they were more comfortable. A cold rain was falling when we left the restaurant, though there were no weather alerts that we were aware of. Dave had gone with Don on a golf outing, to North Carolina, I believe, and Marilyn was away at her freshman college year, so I was home with the 2 boys. Sunday morning was surprisingly snowing, just beginning, as sometime during the night, the temperature had dropped eve more, and we were having an early October weather event. Danny and I went to the early Mass in Valley Falls, 8:00 a.m. then, with David being left at home to go to the later service in Schaghticoke. He didn't like mornings. While we were in church, we heard cracks and snaps, almost like explosions, increasing during the hour we were at Mass. When we left the sheltered environment of Our Lady of Good Counsel, we entered into a winter wonderland. The ice formed during the night had become covered with the falling snow, and the weight was snapping the ice coated branches off like explosions. Limbs were down, and still falling, and my car was covered with a large branch, which had carried the power and/or telephone wires down with it, across the top of my car, a company-owned station wagon as it was. Dave had driven the older car to the airport and left it there. So I'm standing there, helpless, with my 10-year-old son and the church goers are streaming out, toward their vehicles. Tree limbs are still dropping, the weather is cold and nasty and snowing, and as I said, I'm standing there, helpless. "That's my car, under the tree, " I think I said to anyone who would listen, but that would have been no one, at least no one helpful. I heard someone, or probably several, venture to warn me that they wouldn't go near the car if they were me because, since the power company had yet to appear, the wires were probably live. No offers of help, or a ride home with my child----everyone was bent on getting to the safety of their own homes before the weather got even worse. Ironically enough, I suppose, everybody in the church would have known me because I'd been a lector there almost every week since Danny was 4 years old. I'd also trained and scheduled all the other lectors, was a member of the Prayer and Worship Committee, as well as all the parent activities, etc. So Danny and I were the last ones standing; all had left. (Remember, no such thing as cell phones.) Power lines were down all around us, everything was snow covered, we hadn't worn boots. When all help from organized religion was lost, we picked our way to the other Schroder household. The best idea I could manage was to call "The Madigans" for whatever help they could muster. No one wanted to drive through the snow and ice and downed power lines. Rosemary answered the phone and offered to drive us home. In a short time, there she was, having manipulated her car through the maze of hazards. I know how the cruise ship passengers felt when they saw help coming, the moving car a lifesaver. She got us home safely. Our power was out by then and for the next 5 days, but that's another tale, and, though it was a miserable time for the 3 of us (heightened by knowing Dave was having a great vacation on the golf course) that doesn't carry the baggage of the memory of being abandoned by a whole churchful of fellow parishoners. But at least we didn't drown, or even get electrocuted. Hallelujah.