Snowbound

A few years ago, my mom had an epileptic seizure on New Year's Eve. She only rarely had them in my lifetime (I can remember maybe a half dozen in 40 years), but when she did it was usually after a period of stress or lack of rest. My nephew had just been out for a week or so, between Christmas and New Year's, and as was her wont, my mom stayed up even later than usual talking to him and sometimes skipped her afternoon nap or cut it short.

I called the ambulance and she came around shortly afterward, but it was recommended she go to the hospital for some tests just to be sure she was really OK. She went in the ambulance and I rode with her, with my aunt (my mom's sister) following in my late dad's old car.

As luck would have it, it began snowing almost immediately after we left. It was so bad that my aunt had to turn around about half way to the hospital and head home. The ambulance faired better, but they had left by the time my mom was discharged. So she and I were going to have to stay in Dubuque for the night.

I called a cab and one showed up, complete with a complaining, none too lovable driver. He dropped us off at a nearby Comfort Inn and left. We checked in, one room, two beds. We were low on some fairly essential supplies. My mom did not have her medications with her, and several of those were pretty important. Nor did she have any cigarettes. If you are a smoker or live with one, you know what this means. A nervous situation demands nicotine for a smoker, and to be deprived of them at such a time can be pretty dicey. I was worried about what her reaction would be. Compounding all this, I didn't have much money and as I recall, neither did my mom. And the weather forecast was talking about several days of heavy snowfall, so we really didn't know when my uncle (or anyone) was going to be able to come back and pick us up again. I seriously expected to be in that room for at least two days, and probably three. It was a Saturday night, and they were talking about snow until Tuesday!

Fortunately, the next morning my uncle called and said that he and my cousin were going to head up and take us home. I was skeptical because the road conditions were said to be pretty awful, and they didn't have four wheel drive on the vehicle they were taking. But at the same time I was grateful that someone was going to try. Like my mom, I didn't particularly care for being away from home, particularly in those circumstances and I figured we had better take any chance we could get.

Well, they both made it and in a blinding (and I mean BLINDING) snowstorm with heavy winds and very icy roads. I was very grateful to my uncle and cousin for braving those conditions to get us, and I swear I skipped over the mounds of snow in our front yard as we arrived home, I was so glad to be there.

As crazy as it sounds, that is a good memory for me. It's tempting to hate those type of emergencies that make us confront change and fear of harm to ourselves and our loved ones, but they do serve a purpose of making us reconnect with what's important in our lives. For that day, I was preoccupied with more important concerns than who had responded to my internet message board posts or what was going on in my daily soap opera. My mom and I had to think about how we were going to make it through that day and maybe several more, and despite all the change and worry, we did great and got along fine. It proved to me that we had a bond that was more than mere convenience and circumstance. We weren't a team just because we happened to live in the same house and have the same last name. We did fine because we cared about each other and we both put aside our fears and doubts about how things would turn out because there were larger issues at stake, first and foremost the safety and well being of each other. I was (and am) proud of us for that time, and it's a memory I will carry with me always.

And while I don't want constant emergencies popping up to make me re-examine what I value, I do wish I could maintain that sense of what's important each and every day of my life. I try to, at any rate. Like all of us, I took my home for granted but when I saw that old rundown house after being away for less than a full day I was quickly reminded of how much I appreciated and loved it. It's much the same with people; we never really think about how much we value someone until they are taken from us, or at least gone for a while or in jeopardy.

It's difficult to maintain that level of emotional acknowledgement of the things we love. You can't operate a a fever pitch 24/7; it will burn you out quickly. We all have to take for granted that we will probably make it through the day or else we'd never plan for the next one. We'd spend all our cash, exhaust all our resources and no doubt indulge in activities that we'd deeply regret when the sun came up on the next tomorrow. A certain amount of presumption is necessary in order to survive.

But it is helpful and healthy to occasionally reflect on just how lucky we are; to have a job, to have shelter, to have loved ones, to have food and water and clothing and transportation. There is nothing in the world that says tomorrow we will still have them, and while we do, we really out to thank God (or whatever deity or fate you prefer) that for today, we are blessed with them. If it takes a snowstorm, or a near miss accident, or a national tragedy like 9/11, to reinvigorate this thankfulness, then so be it. Maybe the purpose of events such as those is just that; to put into perspective the wonder of our seemingly mundane daily lives, and remind us that for all its faults, ultimately, it's a pretty sweet one.