Under the Sun

Today's PostNote:
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an opinion,
an observation,
or
a fact.

National weather forecasters/reporters are emphasizing winter weather just south and east of the Great Lakes like it is a new phenomenon.


Some of you may have read about one of my winter experiences, but “Under the Sun” is not the story I told in 2016.

About this time of year in 1956, I and two others were invited to spend Thanksgiving with a fellow soldier in the Finger Lakes Region of New York, Canandaigua to be more specific. But that wasn’t my first trip with Ron Brink, an MOS-286 school dropout, who became an Army Security Agency photographer. I went with him to his girlfriend’s family home several weekends.

His hometown claim to fame was his talent with music, so each of those weekends he had a gig at one of the local taverns. Had I been a drinker at the time, I could have all the beer or other drink I wanted at his shows. A friend of Ron’s, even still underage, paid for nothing. Well burgers and soft drinks were also part of the bennies.

Whoops, like I often get, I’m off my original topic again.

Daylight was fading and visibility was exacerbated by light falling snow when we were released after classes with long-weekend passes. A weather caution was posted at the company orderly room and as we headed west, the country music on Ron’s car radio was interrupted by weather information.

Being of the age of young men who know more than most, we continued the trip anyway. Ron and I had driven in snow many times and traded times behind the wheel during the 12-hour drive that would have been six in good weather. Neither of the other guys had driven in snow before and for one, it was the first time he’d experienced snow of any kind.

As expected by most, because of the weather, Thanksgiving dinner prepared for 20 by Ron’s girlfriend’s mother was attended by 10 including the four of us soldiers.

Ron had a gig scheduled for Friday after Thanksgiving. Town streets hadn’t been cleared so the five of us walked. Would you believe Ron’s girlfriend was the only one with boots and warm jacket? The gig at a tavern was only a little better attended than the dinner.

The tavern closed early and after we negotiated nearly knee deep snow, we decided to get an early start Saturday morning. Sometime during the night, the street was plowed leaving a berm across every driveway. The other two chipped and shoveled an opening in the berm while Ron chained one wheel and I did the other.

The six-hour return trip to Ft. Devens took only 14 hours.

Weatherwise, nothing is new under the sun – we just hear about it quicker these days.


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