Last night I saw a Facebook group entitled “This winter is bad, but I survived the Blizzard of ’78.”

So did I.

In late January 1978, I was a student at Bowling Green State University. My roommate Kim and I lived on the ground floor of McDonald Hall West. The windows of our room were at ground level. I don’t remember a lot of detail about those two days, but I do remember it poured down snow and didn’t stop. Soon, we couldn’t see anything out of our window.The school shut down and we were told by our RAs to stay inside.

Then the lights went out, followed by the heat, the phones, and everything else. We (and several thousand others on campus) were stranded with no lights, no way to keep warm, and no way to communicate with the outside. News from the transistor radio wasn’t good, and kids started to get scared.

Wood County was hit really hard, though we didn’t know it at the time. Before long, the room started to get cold (although I assume we might have stayed warmer longer than people on the upper floors). We ended up combining all our blankets into one mummy wrap, and we huddled together in the same bed and tried to sleep. With no lights and neither of us owning a flashlight, that was about all we could do.

All I remember is how relieved I was when the power came back on, and how I couldn’t wait to call my parents. I had to wait in line at the pay phone — we had a phone in our room, but I didn’t have long distance access (too expensive).

The past few days of weather were nothing like that weekend back in 78. But really, when you can’t get your car up the driveway, it doesn’t matter if there are 10 or 30 inches of snow on the ground.

Well, as I feared — snow day today. And likely tomorrow, too. Perfect. I chase the bright, elusive butterfly of rehearsal time. No matter, though. It’s actually one of the reasons I do a 10-week rehearsal frame instead of an 8-week. Still, I fret……………

Anyway, some RNFs for today.

The Oprah/Jay/Dave Super Bowl commercial. I guess I’m a humorless crone. It wasn’t funny. Poorly acted by Oprah, confusingly short in length, and just … juvenile. I dunno. I know the Oprah/Dave history, but this was just dumb. It’s being hailed as the “funniest 15 seconds in Super Bowl history.” Whaaa? Three bad actors on a sofa, eating chips, with Oprah, channelling the prim & proper granny, quietly shushing the spoiled-brat whining? Wow. My sides. Please.

OK, enough snark. I’m nice now.

Cruel irony. The midwest is getting pounded, and Vancouver can’t buy a snowflake.

A worthy cause. Thumbs up, Michelle.

Cancer cure? Could it be the “three wise men” were onto something?

I am going to get work done today, I promise. I wanted to go in to school before the snow accumulation got too bad, but I fear the Finkmobile’s stick-to-the-road ability. Or lack thereof. Hmmm. I think I’ll just stay in.

Peace.

Why do people live in this area December through February? YEOW I can’t feel my hands. Just went out to start the Finkmobile. Iss cold.

And there’s another winter storm on the way. Delightful.

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In school, I was nailed for it — a lot.

While searching for a phrase in the archives this morning (after 673 posts, coming up with original titles becomes a bit of an ongoing challenge), I found a post about Barry Manilow from November 2008. Then I got to thinking about all the stuff I miss about the past, and how important nostalgia really is.

Do you connect certain memories with songs, TV shows, people? There are even times when I look at the sky, or the smell the outside air on a fantastic autumn night, or see Christmas lights in the quiet morning when there’s snow everywhere — and I think of past events in my life with an absolute, yet wistfully pleasant, melancholy. Wishing I could go back there, to that family gathering, or that school day, or to those friends. You ever do that? Yearn for a simpler time? I’m sure my fellow crusties do, occasionally. I think it’s healthy; care and feeding for one’s overall perspective.

For instance, sometimes I miss:

• Christmases as a kid in our house in Waukegan, Illinois
• Saturday mornings when my boys were little, and they’d climb in bed with me and we’d lie there and talk about silly things for a half hour before getting up
• Certain times from my childhood, the memories of which are usually brought on by hearing a song or seeing a certain TV show from the 60s or 70s
• The feeling of being carefree

The memories are so vivid, it seems like I’m there and experiencing it. Is that too weird for a Sunday morning for you? Sorry.

The other day, I had one of these intense flashbacks on the way to school, when the Sirius radio station (70s on 7) played “Tighter“ by Alive ‘N’ Kickin’ from 1970. Wow, what memories. Hanging out with Missy, Peggy, Julie and Mavis at the Brown Deer Pond, crushes on the life guards, working on our tans, talking about boys — because those were the only things we had to think about in life when we weren’t in school. Our childhoods were consumed with being kids. No competition for scholarships, no worries that our clothes wouldn’t pass muster; no worries at all, actually. Great stuff.

All right, time to get my head out of the clouds and get some work done. Feeling better today, but tired. Good reason to shelve the work and take the day off, eh? Hmmm.

Fink out (rooting for the Saints today because they’re not supposed to win).