As in, all in a tizzy.
All for a measly 18 inches of snow.
Regardless, there were plenty of local references to the Blizzard of ’78, which dropped a knee-buckling two to four feet of snow on the region. One of the least hackneyed came from Kevin Cullen’s column in Monday’s Boston Globe:
I was away at college, far beyond Route 128, when the Blizzard of 1978 hit, and being absent for that iconic, culturally defining event came at a price. Neighbors and friends treat you like a blow-in, like you’re not really a Bostonian, if you weren’t around for the Blizzard of ’78.
I was around for the big one, and it went something like this:
I was living in Brookline Village and managing A Wine for All Reasons (stupidest name ever) in Harvard Square. The snow started on Monday, February 6th, and didn’t stop until the next day, at which point my bosses informed me that they fully expected the shop to be open on Wednesday.
So I walked to Harvard Square on Wednesday morning, which took roughly my entire life, and proceeded to dig out the (of course) basement store and open for business.
Typical phone conversation:
Good afternoon, A Wine for All Reasons.
Hey – I can’t believe you’re open.
So why’d you call?
As I remember it, a couple of days later the MBTA kickstarted service from Kenmore Square, so I only had to walk half my life to get to work.
But I sold a helluva lot of wine that week.