“Son, I’ve lived here since 1958, and I’m here to tell you it just doesn’t snow in Connecticut in October,” said the man next to me at the soccer field, as we shivered Saturday morning and pondered the approaching storm. It was so cold, my seventh grade son was wearing a florescent green felt hat as he played.
The man was right, sort of. The last appreciable snowfall was in 1952. But he was confusing personal experience with fact. As any Red Sox fan knows, even longstanding patterns shift. If you wait long enough, it will happen. The question is: how long will you have to wait?
In our case, it was about 90 minutes. At noon the ground was clear. At 12:15, it was covered with snow. By 2:30, tree limbs were crashing to the ground. My driveway was blocked until Sunday morning; I started clearing the fallen limbs, but looked up and decided too many weakened limbs remained directly over my head.
As I write this, you can drive the entire length of the Massachusetts/Connecticut border and virtually every town has very little or no electric power. This is two months after a hurricane (okay, near-hurricane) struck Connecticut, another thing that doesn’t happen here.
It probably wouldn’t hurt if we all tried to be a little more open-minded. Lots more things are possible than we think.