The blizzard of ’93, or what meteorologists called The Storm of the Century, in Alabama was the most snow I’ve ever experienced. We received about one foot of snow back home in our small community of Dogtown (truly named because of the number of stray dogs people would drop off in the area).
According to weather forecasts and reports, the southern states’ coastal regions received hurricane-force wind gusts and record-shattering low barometric pressures. Some areas, unfortunately, received tornadoes that had spun off from the cyclone that moved across the Gulf of Mexico, and I’m no stranger to tornadoes (the northwest and central regions of Alabama have somewhat turned into Tornado Alley for a little over a decade now).
Other reports claim that nearly 40% of the nation’s population experienced the effects of the storm directly, and a total of 318 individuals died during the storm.
Thankfully, at the time, our area only received ice and snow. I was in elementary school when it occurred. The storm had basically shut down our cities and towns for days. For my parents and others who worked day to day, it was a nightmare. For a fourth grader, it was an answered prayer. I had always wanted to wake up to a snow-covered yard on Christmas morning, but I was just as ecstatic to have it delivered in March.
I remember traipsing through the snow with my dad to record snow measurements at our neighbor’s house. (I’m sure my dad was thrilled to carry our early 90s, 20-pound, handheld video camera “over the river and through the woods,” so to speak.) I built the largest, most beastly snowman in my entire existence that week… that is, until a few weeks ago.
From what locals have told me, this year’s winter is nothing in comparison to last year’s. However, this IS the most snow I’ve ever witnessed between the months of January and February. During the last big snow event the area had several weeks ago, I had a snowball fight, built a snowman and made snow angels with my 3-year-old daughter to be, Danielle. I was having so much fun that I actually WANTED to stay out a little longer and play; Danielle’s clothes had become wet, which was the aftermath of our aforementioned snowball war.
If the forecast calls for a weekend snow event, I’m happier than a tick on a dog. But, if meteorologists call for a chance of snow to occur during the work week, I’m bundled up like the Michelin Man. On snowy weekends, I’m Elsa the Ice Queen from “Frozen,” but Monday through Friday, the word “snow” is added to my list of four-letter words that I despise.
Unfortunately, something tells me I’m in for a surprise if this year’s winter season turns out to be anything like last year’s winter in Lancaster.