The first lesson I’ve learned is that two snowstorms is one too many. The first was almost magical since it came on Christmas Day. It was a soft, gentle snow that made me feel we were either in a Bing Crosby movie or a Norman Rockwell painting. Besides, we had heard about its arrival in time to change Christmas schedules.
The second snowfall came upon us with a vengeance. There was no magic in that one. It came and stayed and froze and interrupted normal activities in our city and surrounding areas. I began to wonder if we still lived in the South.
The second lesson I learned is that while individual snowflakes can be distinctively beautiful and unique, they are only powerful when they join together. In a high school weather class, the instructor said, “Snowflakes don’t try to be stars but team players, and when they join together, they can bring a city to its knees.”
When I think of team players, I think of an incident in our family the first time we lived in Kingsport in the 1950s. My husband was superintendent of the Methodist churches in the Kingsport District. The parsonage was on a beautiful, tree-lined street where there were strong families and lots of children.
One day our sons, then 5 and 7, announced they had organized a club that would meet in our basement every Thursday. “And we volunteered you to do the refreshments,” they said. “That’s fine,” I replied, “but what is the purpose of the club?” They hadn’t quite decided that, but they had the motto: “Nobody act big; nobody act little; everybody act medium.” There were to be no stars in the club, only team players. That little club became a Cub Scout den, and I was the den mother. Hardest job I ever had.