Just a few days ago (19th and 20th) everyone was talking about “the big storm in the northeast”. By actual measurement, I recorded 15 inches of snow from this event.
It was horrible, I tell you.
Man-made climate change advocates pointed to that storm and declared it proof positive of their claims. Of course, they gave it a name – as if normal storms such as this one needed a special identifier, and the Weather Channel went nuts with live reports from everywhere. It was like this was yet another “storm of the century” and it’s difficult to argue otherwise – unless, of course, you lived during the 1960s. And I did.
For the record: April 11–12, 1965, in the Midwest U.S. states of Indiana, Ohio, Michigan, Wisconsin, Illinois and Iowa, there were 47 tornadoes (15 significant, 17 violent, 21 killers). It was the second-biggest outbreak on record at the time. The storm system that produced this violent weather moved slowly to the northeast and dumped two feet of snow on the entire area.
I was a 19 year old soldier and had earned a three-day pass from training at Fort Dix, New Jersey. Without telling anyone back home, I decided to try to make it back to Vermont on my “long weekend” of freedom. I took the bus to Newark, then made air connections to Boston, and finally the one-hour ride on a DC-3 to the Barre-Montpelier airport. All of this took place before the storm arrived.
Everyone was shocked to see me! They weren’t prepared to welcome me home until the end of that training stint – sometime in early May. Meanwhile – outside – that storm unleashed its fury.
By Easter Sunday morning, when I was scheduled to start the return trip, nearly every airport in New England was closed due to the storm. My plane actually took off from Barre, but was forced to land in New Hampshire a short time later in a blinding, wind-driven snow storm. Northeast Airlines put us all on a bus bound for Boston and I spent the next 24 hours lounging at Logan Airport, waiting for crews to get the runways open.
It was abundantly clear to me that I wasn’t going to make it back to Fort Dix before my pass expired, so I took a taxi to the nearest Massachusetts National Guard installation and signed myself in as “TDY – In Transit” – a decision that ultimately prevented me from being prosecuted for being Absent Without Leave (AWOL) from Fort Dix.
It was late Monday night before I finally beat the storm and arrived back at Dix – fully 24 hours LATE. I decided not to try to sign back in, in hopes the First Sergeant didn’t notice I was missing. Didn’t work.
Tuesday morning, I was called out of formation and escorted before the company commander to explain my absence. When I told him I had signed in to the national guard unit to avoid being AWOL, he just smiled and said “That was a brilliant idea”. Brilliant or not, that didn’t prevent him from pulling my pass privilege for a month. But that was much better than having a charge of being AWOL on my military record!
I’ve dragged out the details of this event simply to point out to you (and many of you weren’t even born in 1965) that the weather events we’re experiencing are really no different than the weather events of yesteryear. In fact, they’re quite similar and very cyclical.
And now – just a week after getting a 15 inch snowstorm, the snow is all gone! 3/4 of my lawn is bare and Easter Sunday isn’t until tomorrow. And I’m quite certain that summer will be here on, or about, the Fourth of July.