Memory of Snowstorms Past

Typical scenes from the frigid Rochester winters of my youth: The evening news on WBBF radio repeatedly hyping up a snowstorm, predicting 12 to 18 inches of accumulation, and Dad coming home late from work in his vintage WWII Willys jeep with a crank hydraulic device connected to a heavy metal plow, after long hours clearing the snow buildup from his downtown parking lot.

Dad’s jeep was my learner car in which he taught me to drive at age 12. We would circle the two-acre parking lot at Stillson Street on Sunday mornings with the plow chained upward. I sat on an old pillow Dad had taped to the canvas seat, enabling me to see over the window enclosure. He had attached wooden blocks to the brake, clutch, and gas pedal so my legs could reach. Bouncing around the seat while shifting gears meant a steady and tight grip of the broken steering wheel. By the time I was a teenager, I was prepared to venture out alone behind the wheel onto the snow-filled lot to start clearing a path for the few customers – mostly office workers-- who would venture out in spite of the winter advisories. These were Rochester’s hardiest in the 1950s. By 7:00 AM, the first of the adventurers would arrive, driving slowly through the sole snow-lined entryway I had created into Louie’s Parking Lot. Dad, standing in his heavy black leather work coat and leather boots, would direct them to a cleared spot. Meanwhile, I continued to plow away the snow that kept covering the asphalt as fast as I could scrape it away. Needless to say, I loved it. Snow days — when school was closed because of the weather —provided me with rare opportunities to work hand in hand with Dad. He would buy me hot chocolate and a cinnamon bun as a reward. He also paid me, but the money went straight into a savings account and was eventually presented to me in a lump sum when I graduated high school.

At the end of our workday together, Dad and I would drive home in the jeep, plow clanging away, Dad cheerful that he had still collected from his regulars who would come to downtown Rochester, whatever the weather.