Thursday, February 11, 2010

Well, Buckeroos, Let Me Tell You About the Snowstorm in Chicago, January 26, 1967

You think this snow in Washington D.C. is a big deal?  Well let me tell you.  Carl and I saw the  "Storm of the Century" when we wuz in Chicaga back in the nineteen hundreds.

Carl and I wuz moving to Chicago because some Slick Willy had convinced Carl to advance his schoolin' at DeVry Tech in Chicaga out East in the Windy City and so we'uns high-tailed it outta Spokane Falls eastward in our little Ford in January or so after checkin out with Uncle Sam and passin' through Utah on our way.  

I was scared as sin since I barely knew the man (him bein' Carl) anyways and there we was headin' out on I-80.  Can't remember much about it all since it was ages ago, but I do remember that a big storm was headin' our way.  Turned out it was the storm of the century.  That's what they said.  No lie.  People talked about it fur ages.  

As luck would have it, we found a nice little apartment at 2530 Foster Avenue, upper floor, put down a little rent, where we eventualy lived for a coupla years and where we lived when Ben was born, but we had to skedaddle outta town as the snow was comin' down faster than snot.

We high-tailed it down ta Wabash, Indiana where Carl had seen his upbringin' and I met my new in-laws who were the scariest folk I'd ever seen.  Holy cow.  Within five minutes I was alookin' through the Sears Roebuck catalog with Carl's mother, Helen.  

I ain't makin' a word of this up.

Ten days later, we ventured back to Chicaga, buyin' three rooms o' furniture for $350.  We were the first delivery the store folk made too.  They took pity on us since we didn't have a stick o' furniture to our names.  Not a word o' this is a lie neither.

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