Inktober 21: #Chains
In which I brave a snowstorm
On Feb 8, 1973, a storm dropped 16 inches of snow on Warner Robins, Georgia. I was three and a half years old. My Aunt Nancy and Uncle Buddy had left their baby daughter Natalie with us while they went to Florida. The snow came while they were gone, and they were only able to make it as far as Tifton on their way back. So baby Natalie rode the storm out with us. We didn't have snow #chains, and Warner Robins didn't have a snowplow, so my father walked to the grocery store, uphill through the snow, to get her some baby food.
This snowstorm made a big impression on me. I had quite a large Tonka truck that got completely buried; it was just the slightest bulge in the snow. Being unfamiliar with the idea of melting snow, I never expected to see that Tonka truck again. This, I believe, is my earliest memory. I will say, however, that it gave me the wrong idea as to what I could expect from Middle Georgia winters going forward.