The Blizzard of ‘78 was an unbelievable weather event. In 1978, I was 24 years old and this is what I looked like. (Not a great photo, but it’s probably an old Kodak Instamatic.) I had been employed at Millipore since June of 1974. I was at work when the snow started on February 6. The next day was my birthday and it would certainly be a party night, so I had taken February 8th as a vacation day. At the time, they were talking about maybe 6″ or more — they weren’t talking about a blizzard.

I had already been through my first big relationship with a woman. It had a disastrous ending. (Wait until you hear that one.) So, I moved in with my sister, her husband, three kids…and my mother. By the time I got home from work that evening, it was coming down pretty hard. Although I was still anticipating being able to get to work and go out the next night, I made sure I parked legally on the street. Everyone parking on the street (and it was a very narrow street) had to park on the left-hand side only to make it easy for the plows.

I don’t remember it being a very eventful evening. I was an early riser, like maybe 4:30 a.m. because I loved getting into work early before anyone else was there so — on a snowy night when I had no plans — I more than likely went to bed early. I got up as usual around 4:30 a.m. with the intention of going outside,  shoveling myself out and getting on the road. It would also be easier getting around in the snow if nobody else was on the road.

“Where the hell are you going?”

That was exactly what my brother-in-law asked as I walked into the kitchen to leave for work. Okay, I hadn’t even looked outside. I just assumed it was over and that was it. “I’m going to work like I always do. Why?” He started laughing and asked if I had seen it outside. Of course not. WTF? This was going to be a party night. There was no way anything was going to get in the way. (Except the State of Emergency that the Governor of Massachusetts, Michael Dukakis, would declare.) The 6″+ Nor’easter had become the Blizzard of ‘78.

I couldn’t even see my car. I can’t remember exactly what I was driving at the time. It was probably the white Buick Skylark. I could only see a small portion of the antenna, and that was only after I went outside. Every single car on the street was buried. They were completely buried. There was no way to get onto the highway and it didn’t matter anyway because the highway was a giant parking lot. People had been trapped in their vehicles all night because snow fell at a rate of several inches per hour. The plows couldn’t keep up, and there were reports of snow plows breaking down under the strain.

On the morning of February 7, the snow continued to fall — in fact the storm stalled over New England. A State of Emergency was declared. Businesses closed, and no cars were allowed on the road. The National Guard was called in to help clear the snow. People walked to the food stores with sleds. Instead of buses, there were skis. On Fifth Street in Medford, we found out that there would be no plows — at least not that day. They simply couldn’t get down the streets without perhaps inflicting a tremendous amount of damage to the parked cars. We were told that we had to get the cars off the street and into driveways in order for the plows to come.

The one thing everybody remembers about the Blizzard of ‘78 is how people came together. It was no different on our street. People who barely talked to each other from one end of the year to another were getting together to figure out how to make this work. We set to work clearing everyone’s driveway. Then we dug all the cars out (had to be about 15-20 up and down the street) and moved them into whatever driveway was the closest. Those that weren’t out shoveling were inside the house cooking. We also had fortifications — cases of beer and bottles of alcohol of various types.

I was totally into Janis Joplin at the time and drinking Southern Comfort Manhattans at an alarming rate, but who had time to mix drinks while shoveling.  Instead, I simply bought myself a bottle of Southern Comfort and stuck it in the snow bank to make it nice and cold. I cannot even remember how much Southern Comfort I drank that day, but it was a lot. A pantload, as it were. I went to bed smashed and woke up with a magnificent hangover. Even my teeth hurt.  Luckily, I would have more than one day off to recover. I’d be out of work the entire week. It took that long to return the state to some semblance of normalcy.

I was happy to be out of work without having to use vacation time. I needed a break. I had been burning the candle at both ends and it was a chance to slow down a bit. It was unfortunate that my party plans blew up, but that’s life. (We made up for that later. ) For the record, the Boston area received 25+ inches of snow, but other areas received as much as 54 inches. More than 2,500 homes were damaged or destroyed, and 54 people died.

As for my friend George, well, he got bored at home in Medford, so he decided it was time to head into Allston to see our other friend, Joe. He never came home (except to visit his family).

February 7, 1978 also marked the last time I ever put a bottle of Southern Comfort to my lips. Ugh.