This blog is about the story of my family here in America. We arrived in the 1630s as Puritans, and became the common folk of the New World.

The year they shut down the Minneapolis airport because of snow

I grew up in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and it snows a lot there. But the city is prepared for it. It's not as if anyone is surprised when it snows in Minneapolis! In fact, during my entire school career there, all the way through high school, I never had a snow day. That is, the schools I went to were never closed on account of snow. Believe me, we listened every morning to the radio, hoping!

Yeah, I have seen a lot of snow. But nothing like the Christmas snow of 1982.

I had just graduated from college, and was visiting my family that Christmas. And the night before my flight was scheduled to leave, I just felt that it was all over way too soon. There had been the rush of holidays, but I hadn't taken any time just to breathe. I hadn't had any quality time with my youngest brother, who is my favorite. But, well, my flight was early in the morning, and when I went to bed I knew that my mom, who was always an early riser, would be sure to get me up and moving in plenty of time.

I woke up late that morning. It was well past the time for my flight. And I knew that my parents, who were always morning people, hadn't overslept. Something was up. And then I looked out of my bedroom window.

Like I said, I had seen snow before, but never like that morning. There had finally been a snowfall big enough to shut down Minneapolis. And in spite of the fact that I've never been much for going out into the snow, I went out to see it. And my little brother came with me.

It was so quiet. The streets hadn't been plowed, and there were no cars. I saw police patrolling on snowmobiles. My brother and I walked for quite a while. I've joked about it being a *Christmas Miracle*, but, you know, it really was.
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