Ice Station Zebra

"I tried to smile but my lips were frozen."

     As I began my morning commute last Friday, I thought to myself, “I can’t take much more of this.” Of course I was referring to the never-ending winter weather. As I write this, a fifth-in-a-row weekend storm approaches. I should be used to it by now, but I’m not. I’m amazed how the snow has complicated everyday life.

     Inside my home nothing has changed. I take for granted that I am in the same warm safe place I’ve always been. But every time I open my front door I'm shocked because I don't recognize my surroundings. Once my eyes adjust to the blinding whiteness of the outside world, the unfamiliar landscape comes into focus.

     I can't make sense of what I’m seeing. Have I suddenly been transported to the moon? There are high jagged mountains and deep craters replacing what was once my driveway and front yard. The sub-zero temperature reinforces my deep space theory. This is certainly not the Gorham Avenue I remember from photographs of days gone by.

     I look around and realize I’m not on the moon. I’m on an iceberg somewhere in the Arctic Ocean. Am I a survivor of the sunken Titanic? Maybe I'm a stranded whaler trying to find the rest of my lost crew. Then I remember. I’m just a Stoneham commuter trying to get to work to earn a living. I remember my 12-mile three hour commute to Boston that used to take 30 minutes on an average day.

     Each day is a life and death adventure making the treacherous journey through ice and snow, dodging falling icicles, narrowly missing avalanches, and wading through hip-deep snow. And that’s just the trip from my front door to my car in the driveway.

     At least my car starts up each day in this deep freeze, although there are some odd noises upon ignition. Strange lights appear on my dashboard. One light is my tire pressure indicator. Keeping an exact amount of 32 lbs. of air per tire is the least of my worries. I have heat and windshield-washer fluid, that’s all that matters for now. Everything else will have to wait.

     Driving on side streets is a challenge. Entering main streets from behind walls of snow becomes less frightening the more I do it. The adrenaline rush of not knowing if I'm going to be hit by another vehicle really gets my blood pumping. Sweating nervously produces body heat as an added bonus.

I’m quite adept at pot-hole dodging on the highway. I’ve memorized the position of the ones in the road I can drive over without a problem. I know how to swerve just enough to miss the larger craters without smashing into the vehicle in the next lane.

     I’ve accepted the increased volume of traffic due to commuters who used to take mass transit and are now forced to become road warriors like the rest of us. I can't believe the number of driver’s looking at their phones instead of the road. I’ve got my gloved hands locked on my steering wheel in the 10:00 and 2:00 o'clock position. I focus straight ahead as I barrel along at 10 miles an hour, 15 on a good day.

     I arrive at work, where it takes ten minutes to remove my extra layers of clothing and step out of my winter boots into the dry shoes I store under my desk.

After a mind-numbing day of work with my fellow Iditarod travelers, it’s time to make the treacherous trek back home to Stoneham. The days are getting longer so it’s easier to see the ice ruts and pot-holes now, so that’s a plus.

     Everyday errands are just going to have to wait until the spring. Snow covered roads and biting wind make even the shortest trips more difficult. Just checking my mailbox is a chore. Forget about banking, the post office, haircuts, dining out or visiting family. They are a thing of the past in this post-modern ice age. There will be time for those things when the weather warms up – IF the weather warms up.

     I'm not a complainer. I’m the most positive person you will ever meet. But even my uplifting attitude is cracking like a tin roof under the weight of the falling snow. I know this winter is not the end of the world, but it’s pretty darn close. My advice: tough it out and keep your chin up. Just keep it covered so you don’t get frostbite.