Mother Nature came through on the heels of the frantic predictions of a whopper storm. Skeptical New Englanders are watching the snow fall faster than the numbers on Wall Street after another week of gridlock on Capitol Hill.
What’s the bigger story? The predicted heavy snowfall or Tom Brady’s retirement announcement? The latter has news legs that will still be running when the mountains of snow turn to gray slush and we count down the days to spring training in baseball. I saw the news of Brady’s retirement as I tuned in for news about the weather elsewhere. So much a fabric of life in New England. Weather and sports. I was stripping off my layers of snow-covered clothing as I saw the Brady news relegated to bottom screen crawls with the TV folks focusing on the weather. Weather is always a big news story in New England — bigger than crime, politics or sports. Longtime New Englanders are matter of fact about weather but many are still prone to boneheaded behavior, despite Mother Nature’s proven track record.
My 40 plus years in TV and radio news is best remembered by my coverage of blizzards and other foul weather. I’m proud of other stories covered but it seems I’m irrevocably linked to the image of that guy standing out in blizzards with a pleasant smile frozen on his face. I managed to stay on my feet for most of those stories — no small feat.
Today, I wanted to dig a small path out front so our furry son, Duke, would have a clear path so he could take care of business. Duke’s path led to clearing our front walkway to the gate and another clearing to our trash cans. The snow was high and heavy but very soft so shoveling wasn’t a difficult chore for my soon to be 80 year old body. 80? I still cannot accept that number.
Vital paths cleared, I trudged up our long, unplowed driveway — the snow levels almost up to the top of my high boots. I wanted to get some pics of our street and neighboring homes nestled in their Currier and Ives beauty.
As I paused to get my first beauty shot, I lost my balance and wound up looking at the sky, covered in snow. Me — not the sky! I looked around. Nobody noticed. Good.
I got to my feet and walked slowly, Marine-ramrod stiff to outflank the falling snow. I thought I erased maybe 30 or 40 years as I made my way to the top of the driveway and our street. I saluted myself with pride and, in a blink, took another header. Yikes! No way to treat an old Gyrene.
I lurched (yes LURCHED) to my feet and snapped as many pics as I could with my fingers rapidly dialing from numb to frozen. Fortunately, there was little traffic on our street. Apparently, our neighbors were being sensible. I reversed my path and shot more pics returning to our driveway and home.
By this time, my fingers were not moving despite protection from surgical gloves covered by warm gloves. Now, I was operating on automatic, hoping I was hitting the right camera buttons. Just as I reached the door, I took another header – a reminder that I was no longer that smooth pro of so many TV blizzard live shots.
Mother of mercy, is this the end of Garry, the TV weather reporter legend?
And, Tom Brady is retiring?
Holy Cow! What a day!!