Bea V. Larsen . . . .Commentaries |
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Bea V. Larsen is a Senior Mediator at the Center for Resolution of Disputes in |
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The Other March Blizzard This entry was posted on 3/15/2008 11:20 AM and is filed under Personally Speaking. I was scheduled to speak at a seminar on the day the blizzard of March 2008 began, snow starting to blow as I walked to the hotel from my downtown loft. By the end of the day, roads were covered and sidewalks icy with the major accumulation still a promise. A promise kept. That evening and the next day, warm and cozy, I watched the world whiten from my large third floor windows, filled with memories of another March blizzard, fifty years ago: My 28th birthday approached as Len and I and our two young sons, six and three, moved into our first home not a rental apartment. Although barely settled in, what better occasion to show off our prize, so a party was planned. When the day dawned, heavy wet snowflakes belied the promise of spring. An unexpected storm, but my Eagle Scout husband was up to the task of greeting our guests with a welcoming blaze in our first ever fireplace. Minutes after a match was put to the kindling, we knew all was not well. The scent of wood burning, evocative of past romantic campfires, began to fill the house. A delight at first, but soon ominous. Smoke billowed into the living room, little to none drawn up the chimney. As the tiles and mantle began to blacken with soot, doors and windows were thrown open. I was immobilized. Not so Len. Although we had no fireplace tools, he somehow wrestled the burning logs into a galvanized tub and carried them to the front yard, now buried in eight inches of snow. Tipping the glowing logs out, great bursts of steam arose, just as our friends arrived on foot from their nearby homes, agog at the drama that greeted their entry into our chilled smoky house. As this year’s snow continued to fall, I laughed over this memory with our daughter who, although not yet then born, had heard the story in years past. I’ve been thinking since about why this look back brought both pleasure and insight. Len was always ready to act in a crisis, and it was his nature to be a protector, offering comfort which was welcomed by this avowed feminist. Law school was possible for me because he took over nighttime child care for four years. Then once I entered the fray, he listened to my daily stories of victory and defeat. If I felt unfairly treated, he was ever eager to confront my adversaries, which this avowed feminist declined. He was less verbal about his feelings and struggles, and was sometimes despondent about his own career. A scientist who loved university teaching, he felt thwarted by ever present pressure to seek research funding. I, the more optimistic, would suggest paths to alternate satisfactions. For me, the purchase of our home symbolized stability and a commitment to place. He, possessed of a wanderlust and a lover of the wilderness, remained tentative about urban home ownership in the midwest. Then, my income from the career he’d fostered, made possible the purchase of a small plane in which he periodically flew away to yearned for beautiful waters and mountains, and our home became more of a haven. What is the opposite of losing? It is finding. Lost is the delicate balance achieved with a loved partner which the blizzard memory brings into sharp focus, how we grew to rely on each other’s strengths, compensated for each other’s shortcomings, some passions shared, other not. Found is the ability to perform a new balancing act on my own, while still protected by the love and promise of safekeeping offered by children and close friends. I no longer have a fireplace, but am warmed by gratitude, renewed by reflections on the other March blizzard. CommentsDisplay comments as (Linear | Threaded)
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