Let it snow
’Cuz I can’t do a damn thing to stop it.
My last post lauded the sunny days that Bill and I enjoyed after moving to Ohio in September. Comments on the mild fall weather brought knowing looks from locals. I am finding out why.
I grew up in Rhode Island in the middle of the last century. New England winters were snowy back then, and cities took their snow removal duties seriously. I remember the sound of the plows grinding their way down our block at 11 p.m. The next day schools would close, and we’d tunnel into the snow mountains piled up by the plows to make snow forts.
But by 1978 I had moved to DC and mostly forgot about winter.
It’s coming back to me now. Winter has started early this year in the Midwest. My Town lies just outside the snow belt that tracks the southern shore of Lake Erie, from Cleveland to Buffalo. The lake pumps out the fearsome weather known as lake effect snow. And the winds that sweep down from Canada slice you to the bone.
My daughter, who actually lives in Canada, is teaching me about winter. At her urging, I ordered merino wool “base layers” (what we used to call long underwear), along with boots, gloves, and a wool balaclava that makes me look like a space alien.
Winter driving in the snow belt is an act of faith or deep, deep stupidity. Crashes dot the region’s roadways during and after every storm.
I have some winter driving experience, thanks to my New England upbringing, but I’m learning things I never knew. In early December I took advantage of a dry spell to drive to Toronto and spend a week with my daughter’s family. The day for my return to Ohio dawned clear but frigid. Pulling onto the Danforth, a busy Toronto artery, I tried to clean my hazy windshield by squirting wiper fluid onto it. It froze instantaneously into an opaque white sheet.
Glancing out my side window, I saw a curb space to my right and pulled over. I put the flashers on, scraped the ice layer off the windscreen, and set the heat to blast from inside. I’ve since learned there’s such a thing as de-icer wiper fluid. Good to know.
A time for stocktaking
They say winter here lasts until April. I plan to get outside as often as I can. The town hosts an impressive number of free events, many of them with live music. Last weekend I went to a concert and pottery sale to raise money for the local food pantry, a “posada” organized by an immigrant support group, and a holiday get-together of activists. More is on my calendar.
But I have to face the fact that I’ll be spending the next four months mainly indoors: reading, corresponding with friends, streaming Netflix, and watching the birds at my neighbor’s feeders, the cardinals and jays bright pops of color against the swirling snow.
I’ll also be thinking. What’s the best use of my time in 2026, with the midterms looming? After a half century as a colonial subject in DC, I now live in a state, with elected representation: two senators and a congressman. All three are Trumpy Republicans, so I don’t exactly feel represented, but at least I have somewhere to voice my displeasure.
Ohio’s not a battleground state, but there are battles to be fought here. Sherrod Brown’s running for his old seat, which could tip control of the US Senate. Dr. Amy Acton, the state’s former health director, is running for governor against the widely despised Vivek Ramaswamy. There are seats to flip in the Ohio legislature, where the GOP holds veto-proof majorities. Once the snow melts, I might even get out there to knock on some doors.
What good does it do?
I’m not religious, but this quote from the Jewish Pirkei Avot resonates with me: You are not required to finish the work, yet neither are you permitted to desist from it.
With my long johns, de-icer fluid, and four new tires on the car, I’m coming to terms with Ohio winter. So too, I’m coming to accept the limits of what I can accomplish politically in my time remaining. My impact as an individual will be invisible. But collectively, we can do much more. Turn Ohio purple in 2026? Flip the US House – maybe even the Senate – so we can start the long, painful process of undoing the damage and charting a new path? It could happen. I will not finish the work in my lifetime. None of us will. We can only keep doing it as long as we are able.
Glad you are here and are geared up for winter. I hardly think you will be stowed away in your apt. for four months. But it does sound inviting, helpful and enjoyable to have time to figure out where to put energy.
Lake effect snow! Fearful words. I still remember those Oberlin winters!