Featured – Page 2

Blizzard of ’15

January 1, 2016 by Grandpa R

So consistent and ominous were the forecasts before the storm arrived that local wags were calling the event “Snow-mageddon” and “Snow-pocalypse” in the hours leading up to its arrival.

The blizzard of ’15 lived up to its advance billing, and in the days after it hobbled the South Plains, local old-timers compared the event to another storm in 1983. Weather trackers said that in terms of “official” snowfall, the storm was the third heaviest on record. They were quick to add that what made the blizzard of ’15 unique were the winds that accompanied it. We had whiteouts Sunday, Dec. 27, that obscured houses even across the street. Official accounts placed the snowfall at something like 14 inches, but local television newscasts were replete with images of drifts burying windward sides of homes.

Remarkable was the city’s lack of response – for five days.

The storm moved in Saturday night (Dec. 26), abated somewhat Sunday morning, and then came with fury from the north on Sunday afternoon. Monday morning was quiet, peaceful, and beautiful. During the storm, media outlets had admonished residents to hunker down in their homes and go nowhere. Following the predictable run on the markets, most people did just hunker down. There seemed to be a collective sense that Monday, after the storm had passed, life would get back to normal.

That did not happen. Monday came, and most of the traffic was confined to members of a four-wheeler club rescuing those who had become stranded in the snow. On Wednesday, the mayor finally asked the state to help, and in a matter of just a few hours, the major streets were clear.

Winter play

February 28, 2015 by Grandpa R

By some accounts we had over the last two days the most snow in the region for a decade. So what were we to do? Play, of course.

Snow cascade falls into tubs. — Jude (left) and Aiden watch plastic tubs fill with snow as Jake sweeps the wintry stuff off the roof of grandma’s patio.

Where? Grandma’s house. Of course. It was an all-day wait for the much anticipated arrival of cousins Jenna and Riley and Aunt Heather. All the boys had some kind of sled / toboggan

Leave it to Jake to come up with the grand plan. Lubbock is not blessed with topography that produces toboggan runs or ski slopes. However, given the quantity of snow we had, Jake calculated he could build a kiddie slope purely out of snow.

Snow-covered Jake — Jake after the crash

Applying snow engineering techniques learned during a two-year stint in Ohio, he commandeered tubs, trash cans, and toy boxes and used them as the molds to build large blocks of snow. When plain snow in the back yard was not enough, he began harvesting snow from the roof of the house. It was the light, dry, fluffy stuff … not the damp, sticky stuff affectionately known in California as “Sierra cement.”

Jude, Cole, Ben, and Connor pause in the snow.

So it took a little extra work to build the tobogganing slope – ultimately requiring a little help from some water mist and skillful sculpting. But the slide worked just fine – for awhile. When Jude stalled mid-slope, Jake determined to test the slide out. Not a good idea. Toboggan stopped and Jake kept going – face first into the snow with the result that he sported haute couture the rest of the day.

In the end, continuous packing of new snow and a little help from a step-stool and some tree prunings bolstered the top of the slope – the starting gate – and the toboggan run worked fine for a couple days.

A snowy desert

February 28, 2015 by Grandpa R

Heather and her girls had made it as far as Las Cruces after spending the night in Phoenix with Roxanne. Meanwhile, west Texas slumbered under a blanket of snow that often concealed icy roadways. It was simultaneously beautiful and treacherous. Almost the very picture of Kantian sublime.

Snowy Mountains — Snow graces the desert off U.S. 62 northeast of El Paso

Because wintry weather had pummeled us for days and more was forecast, and because New Mexico and Texas road reports were pocked with warnings, cautions, and closures, we had suggested Heather might want to take one of the longer routes to Lubbock – U.S. 62 / 180 from El Paso rather than U.S. 70 and 380 to Brownfield and then to Lubbock. So the girls lingered awhile in Phoenix and then spent the night in Las Cruces.

When we checked road conditions in the morning, we found weather Friday night had been cruel to travel in much of New Mexico. In fact, Highway 380 between Roswell and the Texas line had been closed.

So the girls started off about 9 a.m. Central time and posted occasional texts, including one with the photo shown here. As they reached Seminole shortly before 3 p.m., they texted the family:

We’re about 90minutes from Lubbock, but we had to stop at the first Dairy Queen we came across here in Seminole. We’ve seen snow and ice most of our drive today hence we’re stickin’ with chick’n baskets in lieu of frozen treats!

Seminole is about 75 miles from our house, but about 20 minutes north of Seminole is where the serious snow and ice begins. The reception crew, including two tired toddlers, a weary grandma, and various siblings could only wait.

Reuben’s temptation

August 7, 2014 by Grandpa R

You’re trying to count calories, but the concierge highly recommends a delicatessen less than two blocks from the hotel. The deli’s name is “Reuben’s” and they claim to be the originator of a sandwich that bears their name. Oh, my. The menu speaks of “the original” sandwich and Reuben’s secret sauce.

Downtown Montreal — Boulevard Rene Levesque, Le Centre Montreal

Resistance is futile.

Well, the sandwich itself is stacked about as high as Art’s sandwiches (Studio City), but the bread slices are not quite as large. The sauce is lightly applied, and overall the sandwich is great. They also heap french fries on the plate as though they were feeding an entire hockey team. That was Thursday.

Still in Lubbock Tuesday on the way to Montreal and the annual AEJMC conference I mused that once again I would be away on our wedding anniversary. I thought of my bride. I was missing my family, and I was missing people in the Heritage Ward. I was more mindful of people than the task ahead.

Invading this airport reverie, the voice of Dr. Weiwu Zhang spread cheer upon the moment. It seemed we had the same itinerary. And what was more, we wound up sitting across from each other on both flights. We agreed we would share the cost of a cab from the airport to our respective hotels.

That turned out to be more wishful thinking than reality. After retrieving Dr. Zhang’s luggage, we proceeded together until the final step of customs and immigration, where an officer decided to separate the two of us. I went one way, Dr. Zhang another, and we did not meet again until the next day.

Once at the conference hotel, I began meeting old friends and colleagues, the day seemed better, and I had a some time to prepare for my paper presentation.

The wedding party

June 28, 2014 by Grandpa R

We gained a new appreciation for the expression “wedding party” during a late June visit to California for a family event. What a wonderful experience! Grandma and I went to extend well wishes to nephew Tony and his bride, and we came back much richer. The ceremony and reception took place at Hummingbird Ranch in Simi Valley, just a mile from where we last lived before returning to Lubbock in 2003. It was a beautiful, wooded setting for a late afternoon event that went well into the night.

Tony & Kristine's wedding party — Father of the groom, Ray, stands watching (far left) while Tony and Kristine dance (center) dance to the cheers and approbation of family.

Tony not only married Kristine Bagramyan, but embraced a large, traditional Armenian family; and the gathering after the wedding ceremony bore wonderful testimony to the ideas of weddings as celebration and of the uniting of families.

The wedding ceremony (on the lawn) was short, sweet, and direct, and participants sat facing north, toward the villa, which was uphill, on the other side of a brook and small pond. Following the ceremony, there were light hors d’oeuvres and drinks around a swimming pool before the group gathered for dinner and the real party.

What a spread!

All were directed to assigned tables – 10 people each at 14 tables. As we entered the dining courtyard, each table contained a variety of salads, many representing one corner of the world or another. Each table likewise was generously provided with whiskey, wine, and soft drinks.

After about 45 minutes of eating or so, the music started. The bride and groom took the floor. Then others joined, and the pace increased. Soon the courtyard dance floor contained dozens who waved, clapped hands, talked, laughed, shouted, tried various steps, and carried on – for another 45 minutes. Then we resumed eating, and they brought in different courses. In three quarters of an hour, the call to dance rang out again as the pace and the volume of the music increased.

And so it went, well into the night. Somebody pulled Nancy onto the floor. Finally, I joined the dance long enough, evidently, to be noticed. The father of the groom (“my English is broke”) came over and shook my hand. Tony came over to our table and pronounced “a successful party” because “you got up and danced.” It’s difficult to argue with that reasoning.