A Short Story

 

A Christmas Storm

Everyone in the family was looking forward to the Christmas tree program, except father.  Arnold was a farmer who knew how to read weather and he could feel it in his bones that late December day, and the feeling was that a storm was brewing.  By early afternoon the temperature had started to drop and the wind was picking up, blowing snow across the open field north of the house, accumulating in small drifts over the cornstalks. 

He remembered the Armistice Day storm of 1940, only three years before, when the temperature dropped 60 degrees in a few hours and dumped sleet and snow so deep it had caught duck hunters on the Mississippi River by surprise. Twelve of them perished, freezing to death before they could be rescued. Sleet fell on Arnold’s turkey flock that night, freezing on exposed heads and suffocating over 200 birds; just a few of the million turkeys that farmers in Minnesota lost to the storm.  That storm made everyone wary of sudden changes in the weather, especially farmers like himself. 

“I don’t know, maybe it won’t be so bad,” said mother, “Look at the sun trying to peek through the clouds there in the West.”  Inez was a firm presence in the family. Her opinion usually weighed more than fathers’, but they were spouses who made decisions together; though not always verbalized and clarified. 

The three children had gone out earlier to the hill below the barn to see if sledding would be good on the new fallen snow.  It was decent sledding, but the temperature was dropping and they came inside when toes and finger tips started to go numb.  Jerry had rolled his sister in snow and Lois came in crying; mad and complaining that she had snow down her back.  Hot coco with a marshmallow on top was always a good remedy for the unfairness of the world and a chilled body.

OK then, father said, “we better do the milking early so we can get going, but I’ll need some help in the barn.”  Ten-year-old Laverne, always reliable and helpful, responded immediately and followed his dad to the barn to help feed the calves and throw down hay for the cows.  It was snowing lightly as they walked to the barn but when they returned to the house over an hour later several more inches of the white stuff were on the ground.  “It’s coming down pretty good now, and cold too”, said Arnold, as he stepped into the kitchen.  Laverne added, “it’s really going to be cold for the pigs tonight, so I bedded them down with straw”.

By 6:30 they were all dressed up for church and ready to leave.  Five-year-old Jerry complained that his new wool shirt was itchy, and Lois, a year younger, had tears in her eyes from the hard combing mother had done to straighten out her snarled hair.  “Uff da”, mother said, “such a skrekkelig guudie”.

They drove down the driveway in the 1938 Ford recently purchased with proceeds from the sale of this year’s turkey crop – no disaster this year!  These were war years and prices were good.  The car swerved a bit as they went around the first curve and down the driveway. Mother, with concern in her voice, said, “maybe we shouldn’t be going out in this weather” to which the two younger ones gave up a shrill protest – no turning back now.  On the way to the church, four miles away, visibility got increasingly worse and the wipers barely kept the windshield clear. 

Arriving, they trudged through the snow up the walk to the church, stomping off their boots before they entered.  Many comments about the weather were being voiced – Roy Voxland said, “Yeah, looks like this will be some snow storm, huh?”  and Leonard said, “Well, I thought the weatherman said it was coming tomorrow!”

Inside, the church was warm and festive. The Christmas tree, fully thirty feet high and covered with hundreds of lights, crowded the side of the church next to the pulpit. The pews were full and as the children processed down the center aisle, parents and grandparents strained to see their own offspring as they assembled in the front. 

Pastor Thorson opened with a word of welcome and a long prayer which included an astronomy lesson on the wonders of the heavens - the constellations, planets and stars.  Having been out in the cold air most of the day, father nodded off just a bit during this relaxed time in the warm building, though he was pretty sure nobody noticed. 

Each of the smaller children had pieces to say from memory, parents craning their necks to see their own, hoping they would do a good job, though a few completely froze and forgot what to say, terrorized as they looked out at the crowded sanctuary.  A blond blue-eyed Mary of about 13 years sat next to the creche with Joseph standing by her side in a bath robe two sizes too large for his frame.

Laverne’s part was to read some verses of the Nativity story from the gospel of Luke. Mother thought his was the strongest and clearest voice of them all.  “Most of the others, you couldn’t make out what they were saying” she murmured to father.  Lois and Jerry, together with all the other four-and five-year-old children, were herded up the steps to the front of the alter to sing “Away In A Manger” directed by Mrs. Langamo, who prompted the children with appropriate motions for each line. Jerry, who knew the words well enough was always one motion behind, but spoke his piece loudly when his time came, “I am a little boy and haven’t got much to say, but I wish you all a very merry Christmas day!”  Lois was so shy she hid behind Joseph to say her piece, barely audible, though mother, sitting 15 rows back, understood her perfectly, having heard the lines dozens of times as Lois practiced at home.

When the little ones cleared the stage, a doll had been placed in the manger and several bathrobe clad shepherds had appeared.  After a few more group songs and solos the program was drawing to a close, and the whole congregation sang “Silent Night”.  This was the part where Mrs. Jacobson and a few others always teared up and found it impossible to sing the words.

All the children then processed down the center aisle to the triumphant singing of “Joy to the World”, accompanied by Mrs. Thorson on the organ.  As they exited through the double doors, they were each handed a paper bag containing hard candy, shelled peanuts and an apple, with instruction not to shell the peanuts in the church.  They rushed down the stairs to the basement to don their winter coats and overshoes, with a few gay comments, like, “Merry Christmas”, and “What you think you’ll git for Christmas?”.  Parents hurried their children along, reminding them to put on their mittens, though several pairs had already been lost.

Outside a full-blown blizzard was underway, gale force winds blasting snow into faces as everyone rushed to their cars.  Some needed a push to get free from a drift, and a couple cars wouldn’t start.  Families helped each other until all the cars were moving carefully in all four directions from the church. The family headed west, following tire tracks and tail lights of those who had ventured out first.  “I can’t see a thing”, Arnold said, to which mother replied, “well, just go slow – and stay in the middle of the road”, though it was impossible to distinguish road from ditch – everything was a white sheet in front of them.  A mile down the road Arnold wondered if he should take the left turn on the road through Voxlands woods, calculating that proceeding straight ahead on the usual route would mean going down the Arlie hill which would have an icy base covered by new fallen snow.  It could be treacherous and dangerous; if the car careened off that steep road it would drop thirty feet into the ditch below.

This alternative road had more curves but the decline was gradual and thus safer.  So, Arnold turned left but soon thought that maybe he shouldn’t have. No tracks meant that no other cars had recently gone this way.  Snow was now up to the bumper, and they still faced a whiteout ahead. Just keep going steadily forward, he thought, a stop would likely mean getting stalled.

The three in the back seat leaned forward, wide eyed and hearts beating fast, sensing the tension of their parents.  For a while, Arnold thought it was going alright as they made slow and steady progress, even traversing the two main curves through the woods.  But in another quarter mile the wind had blown great drifts across the road.  And then they were stuck. Tires spun helplessly as Arnold tried to rock the car back and forth.  Mother took the wheel as father and Laverne got out and tried pushing, to no avail.  “What are we going to do now?” asked Laverne. Lois began to cry in fear and panic.  The fear actually ran through all of them, but mother and father tried to assure the children that “everything will be alright”.  They sat in the darkness for a few minutes, trying to figure out the answer to Laverne’s question. 

The Flom farm was almost a mile back from where they were stranded, but they knew that Lawrence and Esther weren’t home that night, so trying to walk there with the children through waist high drifts in this blizzard would likely be neither fruitful nor wise. In the other direction they were still two miles from home.  Arnold thought of the many times he had walked the mile and half to school in deep snow and sub-zero temperatures when he was young. He could do it, he thought, walk to the farm to get the horses and sleigh, and the rest could stay more or less warm in the car with the motor running.  He looked at the gas gauge; a quarter tank. 

Mother wrapped her scarf around his head so only his eyes were exposed.  Then he assured the family he would be back soon and took off, without so much as a flashlight to guide the way.  Within a few hundred yards he stepped off the road and fell into the ditch.  He struggled to get out of the deep snow and when he did was somewhat disoriented as to which way to proceed; everything was dark and through his squinting eyes he could not decipher any objects to give him direction.  He knew there were trees along the road, within a few yards, but could not distinguish them. But he had to keep going, figuring he had an hour, at the most two, before the car would run out of gas. 

Back in the car everyone was quiet, but the wind was howling outside, piling snow ever deeper all around the car.  The motor was running, but the heater gave only minimal heat.  There was one blanket in the back seat to cover the laps of the children, and mother chided herself for not being better prepared for winter driving.  Toes and fingers were getting cold and the boys were shivering.  Lois climbed into the front seat to be wrapped in mother’s arms for comfort and warmth.

After some time Arnold came to the bridge over the Zumbo river.  He knew where he was now and that he just had to go west from here for another mile and half, heading directly into the wind. Though he had a good overcoat and fur cap with earlaps, the bitter cold penetrated to his skin.  He was walking straight down the road now and all it would take was endurance.  Thinking of the family back in the car kept him motivated to press on.

He trudged on and came to the other bridge over the river, and a pleasant vision came to mind of the times he had gone fishing and swimming just a short distance up river from this bridge.  What a strange thought in the midst of this agonizingly cold slog he was on. He was tempted to sit down for a few minutes of rest behind the embankment below the bridge where he could find respite from the wind. He paused and started down – just a few minutes he thought. But again, he willed himself on, knowing that time was running short.  From here there were just a few hundred yards to the mailbox, and then up the driveway. Trying to go faster now, he slipped and fell twice going up the hill to the barn. 

Exhausted, he almost collapsed as he stepped inside, feeling the immediate rush of warmth and the familiar odor of the barn; the cows contentedly chewing their cuds and the horses, Jiggs and Maggi, standing in their stall. He reached in the dark for the kerosine lantern and lit it, giving him light to harness the horses.

It was bitter cold inside the car and mother realized the children were getting sleepy and she needed to keep them awake somehow. She might have dozed off herself; she wasn’t sure.  She tried to get conversation going by talking about the program at church, telling them they had done so well, asking what they wanted for Christmas, anything – even a joke about pastor’s long prayer.  But the children were not responsive; instead stating the obvious, “Mama, I’m so cold!” “When is Daddy getting back?” “I’m really scared!”  She tried to be comforting and calm. Then the car engine stopped.  A dreadful quiet: it seemed like the wind even paused for a minute.  Mother felt the shudder of fear rising up inside. Where was Arnold? How much longer? Lord, be with us.

Later they realized that, indeed, the wind had died down almost completely, leaving an eerie silence.  Listening for sounds in the silence Laverne was the first to hear it; the swishing sound of the sleigh through snow, the hard breathing of horses, and then father’s voice, “whoa Jiggs, whoa Maggie”, as the two big blacks pulled the sleigh up to the car. Jerry squealed “He’s here! Dad is back!”. They tried to open the car doors on both sides, only to find they were snowed in. With good foresight Arnold had brought a shovel and he immediately went to work, digging the family out of their temporary detention.  What joy to see each other safe and sound as they tumbled out of the car!

It took some maneuvering to turn the sleigh around on the narrow road, but Arnold was a good horseman, and got it done.  There was a pile of straw on the sleigh as well as heavy blankets. Mother and the children quickly made themselves comfortable in the straw bed for the ride home, and father, standing on the front of the sleigh, raised the reins and said, “giddy up, let’s go home”.

Not only had the wind died down but the clouds had lifted, and the light of a full moon revealed a wonderland of glistening white spread out across the countryside.  None of them talked during the ride home, each savoring their own thoughts and feelings of relief and safety. Jerry looked up at the clear sky above where thousands of stars shimmered, and he noticed one star in particular that seemed to have a special glow.  Was that the star the wise men followed, he wondered.  He thought it was, but he kept that thought to himself.

Back at the house they quickly readied themselves for bed. Because there was no plumbing in the house, there was always that unpleasant duty before bed of going out in the cold to stand at the edge of the porch.  But Jerry didn’t mind it that night as he breathed in the cold air and gazed up at the heavens, looking again for that special star as he relieved himself.  Then upstairs to the unheated bedrooms, the boys in one room and Lois in the other, they quickly took off clothes except for long johns and jumped under a mound of heavy quilts.  Jerry laid awake for a long time with images of this night in his head.  He felt safe and happy and fell asleep.

 

 

Many years later an old man sat in his recliner, reminiscing on life and how things had turned out.  A vague recollection came to him of a cold winter night long ago, a Christmas program, a snow storm, horses pulling a sleigh, safety with mother and father. And happiness. Was it true, he wondered, did that actually happen?  Sometimes he thinks it really did.