How 70 and 80-year-olds have fun

To the editor,
We have had such a small amount of snow each year for the past thirteen years that I know of. For that reason, all of us had a tendency to ignore the weather forecast of recently expected snowstorms. One snow had already prevented my brother, George, from driving his pickup from his house to Lahore Road; however, I was able to negotiate his long and hilly driveway with my four-wheel-drive vehicle with little difficulty.
It was the day before the warning of a second storm when I drove my brother, George, to the doctor and then to Food Lion for groceries. All went well, but when we returned to George's place, he indicated that he had forgotten some groceries, but that he could manage. From that point, I went back to my place and we settled in our respective homes with little concern for the snow that everyone was talking about.
The snow came and boy, did it come! I knew the next morning that driving into George's was out of the question. Even with a four-wheel-drive, it becomes absurd to believe that you can drive in very deep snow. I knew that if I tried, I would end up totally stranded with no way out except to request emergency help.
It was another day or two when we were hit with yet another snowstorm that dumped an additional 10 inches of snow on us. After hours of snowfall I had plodded through the deep snow several times to clean my heat pump and satellite antennas. I could manage without the TV, but it was surely nice to maintain access to the Internet for email and weather forecasts. Luckily we had no power failures during all of the storms.
George and I kept in contact by phone and he often indicated how he was running low on certain foods, especially wine. (I am not suggesting that George is an alcoholic; he simply likes wine with evening meals.)
a couple times of our discussions, we had both decided that his walking to the road would be too risky with his knees below par. But the time came when George made up his mind to tread a path through the snow and meet me at Lahore Road. Believe me, this was a very bad decision on his and my part, especially when it was already 4 p.m.
I allowed about 20 minutes for George to reach the main road, but I knew there was a mound of snow and ice that he would have to climb over in order to reach my vehicle. So I went a little early and parked in the road with emergency lights flashing while I shoveled a pathway for George to walk through. In a short time we were on our way to Food Lion with no time to spare.
On our return, I had to drive to my place in order to turn around and come back so that George's entrance would be on my right. Again, I stopped on the right side of the road with lights flashing while George and I transferred some of his food from shopping bags to a backpack he had brought for that purpose. The backpack was far too small for what George had bought. I knew at this point, George would not be able to make it to his house, plus darkness was creeping in rapidly. I helped him shoulder the straps of the backpack and soon he was waveringly on his way.
My feet were freezing because of the type of boots I wore. I had to return to my place where I tried to warm my feet and maybe put on some different clothes. My socks were wet and I was miserably cold. After a speedy revamping of clothing, I was on my way back to where I had left George. Instead of driving my vehicle back to George's entrance, I went by foot on Lahore Road as fast as I could. As soon as I walked into George's driveway, I could see that he had fallen in the snow and couldn't get up. I had a hell of a time trying to get him on his feet. He was finally up and stable while I relocated the backpack. I took all of the bags of groceries and headed toward his house as fast as I could travel. I had nothing but trouble trying to stay on my feet because of the second layer of ice and snow giving way with my every step on a trail that I could barely make out in darkness. I fell twice in the course of the first trip to his house. I put the groceries on the table on the front porch. I looked for flashlights in his house but could find none.
I headed back down the road to see how far George had gotten; he hadn't gotten very far. I took the backpack and strapped it on me and prepared for my second trip to George's house. The going was terrible with that backpack, plus my ankle and one knee was beginning to give out.
Once again I fell; this time with the backpack and I realized how it must have been for George trying to get to his feet with a heavy backpack and unstable legs.
I began to visualize both of us lying in the snow and freezing to death. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but made me all the more determined to make it once more to George's. I put the backpack on a chair near the table where I laid the other food. On my way back I could hear George yelling for me to find the flashlights, so I went back in the house and finally found a battery-type lantern and a flashlight.
What a difference a light made! Now I could see where I should be placing my feet in trails that were now quite visible from all the walking back and forth. I arrived to see that George had advanced a few yards closer to his house. He had no choice but to continue and he insisted that he could undoubtedly walk the remaining distance, especially with the flashlight. I could not carry him, nor was I going to wait till he got home. I had a long way to go back to my house. I insisted that he call me as soon as he reached home.
I knew I would make it home with not much trouble, but my feet were throbbing with pain from the cold. I noted the time when I arrived at my house and said to myself, Please call me George, soon! I couldn't stand the thought of having to make another trek across that mess that I had been through several times tonight.
It was sooner than expected when my phone rang and it was George, my snow companion on the other end! He said he had made it with only a few more falls, but he was home. Then he said, "I hate to think of what happened after I had reached home and felt so good about having my wine and the end of a terrible ordeal: I picked up the backpack from the chair without much thought as to how I picked it up, and only one thing fell from the backpack: the bottle of wine fell to the concrete porch floor and broke into smithereens!"
In hindsight, what I should have done was insist that we not go shopping that afternoon; instead, to go the following day. There was nothing that George was facing that could not have waited for one more day and especially for daylight. If I had it to do over again I would have taken a list of what George needed, gone shopping for him, and carried what I thought was reasonable-maybe the wine-and drudged through the snow to his place without his being involved. If I had done that, I would have made only two trips as opposed to the four trips that I did make.
Because George is now 84 and I am 78-with many years of snows in our past-one would think that we should have enough experience in country living to have planned a little more sensibly in such perilous circumstances. Maybe we'll know better, come the next snow!
Earl Worick