Month: April 2023

It was January 28, 2014. The weather forecast called for temperatures to dip into the teens with a light dusting of snow. I had driven my own car to meet the rest of the Daytime Alabama team at the Pelham Civic Center where we were doing a light hearted TV feature on the hockey team and the incredibly cumbersome gear a goalie has to wear. (The irony of doing an ice skating piece on this day would strike me later.) When I entered the rink facility about 10am the wind was cold, the sky was cloudy, but there was no precipitation. It was a brisk, sleepy Tuesday morning.

When I emerged from the building about three hours later, the world had changed. Suddenly there was a coating of snow on the ground, people seemed to be scurrying about with a sense of urgency, and traffic on the streets was unusually heavy. Still clueless as to what was going on, I worked my way to the I-459 bypass. As I approached the Highway 31 exit ramp, traffic came to a hard stop, backed up as far as I could see. After several minutes I shifted into Park, set the emergency brake and turned on the radio.

It was only then that I learned that the snow had unexpectedly frozen on the streets and freeways. Schools, caught by surprise, quickly decided to let out early, causing thousands of panicked parents to get on the roads at the same time in an attempt to pick up their kids. The result was the equivalent of a carnival bumper car ride on the highways. Not only were passenger cars stacked up all over the interstates, but big rigs were jack-knifed and spread out horizontally across multiple lanes. I-459 in front of me had become a parking lot. The day would later become known as the Snowpocalypse.

I noticed several drivers around me abandoning their cars and heading out on foot. I decided to stay in my car for the time being. Surely they would get traffic moving eventually I thought. Besides, it’s freezing out there, and I was dressed only in a sport coat with an open shirt. With the car idling and the heater on, I chose to sit tight. A decision I would come to regret.

An hour went by. Two hours. Three. The radio reports indicated the situation was only getting worse, not better. With the gas gauge getting low I finally began to realize I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I called the TV station to see if they had vehicles on the road that could come and pick me up. The newsroom assignment editor told me all units were out covering the situation, and they would come get me when there was a lull. I had worked in television newsrooms long enough to know that, during a big weather story such as this, there is no lull. Coverage is continuous. They weren’t coming to rescue me. I knew I was forgotten the moment they hung up the phone.

Reluctantly, I buttoned up the top button on my shirt, pulled up my collar around my neck, and got out of the car. It was surreal. Hundreds of empty cars around me at a standstill. People walking in droves along a four lane interstate as though it was a pedestrian mall. It was like a scene out of one of those nuclear war aftermath movies.

The Highway 31 ramp was just a few hundred feet away. Even the ramp was blocked by collided cars. There was a gas station/convenience store at the base. I tramped down the icy exit into the business, which was packed wall to wall with folks just trying to get warm. My cell phone was almost dead. My only connection to the people who might help me was about to go dark. I approached a frazzled employee, who was overwhelmed by the sudden flood of distraught visitors. I apologetically inquired if there was anywhere I might plug in my phone, fully expecting to be laughed out of the building. Much to my surprise, he flashed a sympathetic smile, came out from behind the counter, and pushed the freezer containing the popsicles and ice cream bars slightly out from the wall, revealing an outlet with an available socket. He invited me to plug in.

That would be the first of an amazing series of kindnesses extended to me by people I did not know. And I needed them. I needed them because, as the sun began to set, I realized that, for the first time in my life, at the age of 63, I was going to spend a night homeless. And it was terrifying.

I remembered there was a hotel about half a mile down the street, but of course, they were completely booked up. Employees were hauling out blankets and pillows for stranded stragglers and allowing them to sleep on the lobby furniture and the floor for free. Several unselfishly offered to give their blanket to me, but they needed it more.

After more wandering around, I wound up at a nearby Subway Deli with a handful of other frightened fugitives. It was one of the few places still open. Rather than boot us out at closing time, the owner graciously told us we could stay there overnight. I spent the evening in one of their wooden booths. Didn’t sleep much but at least I was warm. There’s a lot to be said for just being warm. I will never take it for granted again. At sunrise, I headed back out into the cold, figuring I would try to walk back to the TV station. A mile down the road, I was offered a ride by a friendly couple passing by.

Now, normally, I would never recommend getting into a car with strangers, but these were desperate times. They turned out to be sweet people who felt sorry for me because I looked so cold. They drove out of their way to drop me off at the TV station. I was safe, thanks to the kindness of others.

There is so much more to write about that day. Like how my wife and her fellow teachers spent the night at the county school for special needs children where she worked, foregoing sleep to take of the kids and keeping them calm because the buses couldn’t run. Or the chivalrous policeman who braved blocked roads and icy bridges to drive them home the next day.

I would come to learn that the kindness shown to us was typical of the entire region, as people pitched in everywhere to help those in need. Unselfish love. Service to others. What a concept.

It takes the worst of times to bring out the best in us.

Easter egg hunts are a tradition of the season. Few things are more exciting to children than vaulting into the back yard and searching the premises for those plastic ovoids, especially when there is the promise of a treat inside. My grandkids beg me to hide the eggs over and over again, never mind that they tend to be in the same locations every time. It’s the thrill of the discovery, the challenge to get the most.

However, when the hunt is conducted on a community-wide scale, those same motivators can often change the landscape. It occurs to me that watching a large Easter egg hunt is akin to observing all of the facets of human nature, playing out right there in front of your eyes on the field. There is passion, aggression, greed, joy, disappointment, ambition, generosity, sympathy and determination.

And that’s just the adults.

I was struck by the report of an egg hunt in Ohio, where shopping mall proprietors had to apologize for the behavior of adults, some of whom were seen literally blocking children out of the way, knocking them down to facilitate their own kids’ success. Despite several warnings and admonishments to the grown-ups to stop picking up the prizes themselves, they continued to “assist” their own offspring by gathering up eggs for them. The result was many children winding up with few or no rewards at all.

Distasteful as that may be, it’s hard for me to judge the adults too harshly. More than sheer greed, they were likely driven by an out-of-control desire to provide the maximum possible joy for their own kids. It’s love gone radical. It’s a blinders approach to a purpose in a vacuum. And it’s become the mantra for our culture today.

Far too often we are all about ourselves, our families, our circle of friends. Our own political beliefs, our own moral convictions, our own definitions of normal. Our own basket of Easter eggs. How ironic that so many of these self-centered human foibles are on display at an Easter egg hunt, during a season which commemorates the ultimate act of unselfishness.

Are we doomed to a future of self-absorption and loss of empathy? Maybe not. I recently saw video of an egg hunt where children aged preschool through fifth grade were instructed to search for eggs by color. Younger kids were to pick up certain colors, older kids to collect those of other colors. Nice concept. Difficult to control. And the result was predictable. The older kids, faster and stronger than the young, mostly disregarded the color structure and filled their bags with whatever they could find. It wasn’t long before anarchy prevailed and it was every kid for himself, regardless of color.

But through the chaos there were signs of hope. A few of the older tots, recognizing that the young had little chance of success, were seen not only helping the toddlers fill their bags, but actually taking eggs out of their own container and giving them away. That kind of altruism seldom occurs naturally. It is a result of having it modeled to them. Modeled by parents and siblings who have not bought into the us-first mentality.

Patience, courtesy, humility, respect and reverence are still out there. A little harder to find perhaps, but still there. I find that those who practice them are almost always inspired by a relationship with God. By the example of sacrifice for others modeled by Jesus on the cross, the seminal event of the Easter season.

It’s never a mistake to put all your eggs in that basket.