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Uncovering truths
inside snowdrifts

Whether we were stronger because of it or not, shortly after closing time Friday, I found myself together with seemingly every other Marion resident, seeking a parking space at Carlsons’ Grocery to ensure a sufficiency of supplies for our impending snowmageddon.

As one car backed out, I twisted my own car into the last space and spotted out of the corner of my eye boss-turned-bag-boy Greg Carlson helping someone else to his car.

I don’t think he heard when I half-yelled, “What’d you do, Greg, give a kickback to weather forecasters?”

Having purchased a larder worthy of any squirrel burying nuts for winter, I retreated to my domicile, secure in the knowledge that I could hibernate until Monday at the earliest and watch in warm comfort as Mother Nature displayed her chilling worst, from freezing fog to thundersnow to wily winds that mixed it all into a perfect puree of peril.

In all truth, it wasn’t that big of a storm. I’ve survived plenty worse in Wisconsin, in Illinois, even here in Kansas. But it was bad enough and as often is the case in times of documented danger, it brought out the best — and sometimes the worst — in all of us.

Fortunately, heroes outnumbered villains by a margin that, in an election, would have made for a landslide — or, more appropriate to our weekend weather, could have been termed an avalanche.

It wasn’t just the anonymous neighbor (whose identity has not actually eluded me) who at one point pointed his snowblower in my direction and cleared my sidewalks as well as his. Or the friend who, upon hearing that my car was stuck in an alley, and I was unable to shovel it out because of recent routine surgery, jumped in his truck to do what I could not.

It was what unfolded on my scanner radio that topped any of the drama available from the seemingly thousands of streaming services that I had planned to occupy my time as nature stopped time for our community.

Heading the list was chief Les Kaiser and his Lincolnville fire department. Firefighters, you know, are those unique humans who run toward burning buildings rather than away from them. Sunday, they did much the same.

At a time when troopers and plows were being pulled off state highways and wrecker crews were unable to respond because of the danger of operating, Kaiser and his men were driving up and down US-56/77 like Robin Hood and his band of merry men patrolling Sherwood Forest in a quest to help those unfortunate souls who’d been silly enough to venture out.

Marion’s ambulance crew on both Saturday and Sunday earned equal praise for slogging through the storm to handle virtually every call in the entire county, not even making it back to the comfort of their station for breaks between calls.

Peabody’s firefighters seemed almost as busy, and their paths crossed several times when firefighters had to extricate the ambulance from snowdrifts piled atop ice. EMTs, to their credit, decided to walk the rest of the way to one call rather than make a seriously injured patient wait.

I’m unsure why state officials were so concerned with employee safety that they pulled plows off highways, potentially stranding motorists whose safety it was their solemn obligation to protect.

But we have to admire how many people came together to do little things that provided a big boost to our getting through the weekend.

Marion’s electricians were anticipatory enough on Friday to take down a new $3,500 Christmas angel who I had expected would end up flying south for the winter if it hadn’t been removed.

Without being dispatched, Marion’s firefighters traded their bedroom sheets for sheets of ice trying to free a stuck Hillsboro ambulance after dispatchers said no county vehicles were available to assist.

Florence and Burns firefighters, who apparently just happened upon the scene, covered a person who fell with blankets and safely took the person inside while waiting for a delayed ambulance to arrive.

An off-duty Peabody EMT volunteered to recheck the condition of a patient who others had said wouldn’t need hospitalization and found that the person was going to need to be taken in serious condition to a hospital.

Like the highway patrol pilot who had trouble reaching dispatchers because normal police talk groups now are needlessly encrypted, I’m unable to regale you with examples, as emerged in previous snowstorms, of how deputies and tow truck operators worked in complete harmony over radio waves they used to share to prioritize removal of stalled vehicles.

But I do know that Undersheriff Larry Starkey was kind enough to help one of our reporters after her car became stuck outside her home Monday.

I can take vicarious pride in how Durham firefighters and first responders volunteered their personal equipment and were able to directly contact their area’s snowplow operator to clear a path for an ambulance run after being told by dispatchers that they basically were on their own.

And I can note how, at a time when many offices and businesses remained closed, Marion City Library was in full operation thanks to city crews and a library director who, we hope she won’t mind, we point out is on the high side of normal retirement age.

Amid all the frozen moments of heroism big and small was a strong undercurrent of people wanting to shut down everything and cower in their homes to wait for challenges to pass.

America wasn’t made by people afraid to take a risk. What will make America great again isn’t some politician or government employee. It’s people whose sense of duty makes them willing to take risks while others can comfortably watch. It’s only when those who seek to fade into the background outnumber those willing to step to the forefront that we face true disaster.

— ERIC MEYER

Last modified Jan. 9, 2025

 

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