Buried in Chicago: The Blizzard of January 26, 1967

I remember the Blizzard of '67 very well. I was only in kindergarten at the time, but to me, it was the best day of my life

I was all of five years old at the time, and lived with my family (mom, aunt, older sister and grandmother, and dog Scruffy) in a two-story apartment building in the Englewood area of Chicago.

I recall waking up and seeing nothing but snow everywhere I looked out my window. The entire backyard was buried and the snow had piled up to the landing of the stairs that led to our back porch. That was cool!

My mom and I sat at the living room window and watched the snow as it blew around the streets. My dog Scruffy sat right next to me and watched it too. He was almost eight months old and had never seen snow before.

My aunt, Ebet, was also home. She couldn't get into her job or school because all of the buses were stranded and it was im-pass-able to get to el station one block away. Even my grandma was home from work. It was the first time we all were home on a weekday together.

I also remember taking Scruffy out for a walk that day. It was hilarious. You see, he was a mixed breed: collie, toy terrier and one other breed we never figured out. He was mostly white with light brown patches all over.

We couldn't get out the front door, snow was up to the door and no one was able to shovel it. The building had mostly women in it, and the one male that lived there wasn't home. He'd gotten stranded in the city the night before.

So my aunt and I took Scruffy to the back porch and began to go down the stairs. The snow was up to my waist and I fell in it a few times and laughed. But Scruffy, that was a different story altogether. He was about 1 - 2 feet tall and the second he got in the snow, he disappeared. It had completely covered him. My aunt stood near the top of the stairs and watched as he and I made our way down, when she realized he'd vanished.

We both yelled for him as we searched the area when suddenly we see this little brown spot jump form the snow. Yea, it was him. Then he vanished again. This happened several times, but then we noticed something. Wherever he "popped up", there was a trail that led to where he was. So now we were able to watch him.

My grandmother, mom and sister watched from the back bedroom window and laughed as we watched our own little "Scruffy" - in the - box go from place to place throughout the yard.

And whenever he popped up, he'd just stand there and shake the snow off, only to dive back in and run around some more.

It took us a while to get him to come in the house because he was having so much fun, but we finally did it. Mind you, it took me a while because I was chasing him and falling all over the place. So by the time we were both headed indoors, we had as much snow on us as there was around us.

Once inside, my grandma fixed me some hot chocolate and my mom made me take a warm bath so I wouldn't catch a cold. As for Scruffy, my aunt and sister found some dirty towels to dry him off.

Later that same day, my mom and I were again looking out the window in the living room, watching people yell at their cars as they tried to dig them out of the snow. Some eventually gave up, including one man who's car was in front of our building. He came to our building to ask if he could call home to tell his family where he was. The lady downstairs let him use her phone, while my aunt and mom watched him from the stairwell.

She was an elderly lady and we always watched out for each other. She often babysat me when my mom had to work late.

Anyway, he made his call and thanked her and made his way to the bus stop a block away. I guess he made it home.

But as we resumed listening to the reports on the TV about the storm, people were still having trouble with their cars.
All except one...

There was a family that lived down the block from us, and we could see their garage from our window.

We saw the father go into the garage and didn't think anything of it until we saw what happened next.

He and the family had piled into his old car, I think it was an old Nash (I remember it had to be cranked to start), and they came driving through, passing all the stranded cars and went on their way. Not too many people in the neighborhood liked him after that, but he didn't care.

It was funny to watch as he rolled by and everyone else was still digging out.

Here we are, forty years later and everyone but my sister and myself have died. Even Scruffy. But my memories of that day will live with me forever.

And now, with AC...they'll be here even after I'm gone. Thanks AC!

Maybe my next story will be about the semi-storm of 1979...that was a blast, too!