This article although not sure if it is true, or ‘tongue and cheek’ might be entertaining.
(This article talk about the Blizzard 1888 which occurred Sunday March 11 to Wed March 14)
Dear Bulletin – I would have communicated before, but the wind blew me out of the bed on Monday night last week; since which time, I have been somewhat deficient in penmanship – the Dr. says my wrist is only sprained and will come out all right.
I have read a good deal first and last about what high old times the wind and snow have “Out West”, but have never had any blizzard experiences until last week. The wise men who manufacture the weather announced a storm, so everybody naturally looked for fair weather and thought it unnecessary to lay in more than the usual stock of eatable and things.
Unfortunately, Yours truly was one of the short-sighted multitude
As I have just hinted when the gale struck, I was not exactly prepared; that is to say, had not very much on hand and what I had was in the cellar. The passage to my cellar is outside, which being interrupted last week, meant there was no passage to my cellar. There is a time for all things, and among them is a time to eat.
I ran over to the “bill of fare” on Monday night, and found it consisted of snow, fried wind and eggshells. I thankfully partook and went to bed, but as I said at the top, did not stay there all the time. Tuesday morning the “bill of fare” was similar to what mentioned above, with the addition of skip, which I thoughtfully left for a noon lunch.
After filling up, I put on what clothes I had and crawled up the chimney to see if I could find out where I lived. I braced myself against the few bricks that were left, (most of them had gone away), and gazed around. What a change! Every landmark had disappeared and nothing was left to remind me of the dear old home of my childhood. I was just preparing for a genuine “let her go Gallagher?” weep, and the wind changed. So did I. I wanted to swear, but my condition was too critical.
How long might I remained “doubled up’ in the 18 feet snow-drift would have been recorded in the obituary notice, had not a friendly tree near by extended a helping hand. When I landed it was not upon my feet, or my head, but somehow I struck and average. The hand aforesaid reached out as far as the parent trunk would permit, whispering “come up higher”, but I couldn’t. Finally, after many vain attempts, I made one desperate lunge, and thank Heaven, I was saved – about halfway.
As I sat in that old tree, a lone inhabitant of air (and cold at that) with no eye to pity and no ladder to climb, I naturally thought of the last half – feared I might freeze to death, and probably I did, for all was soon lost in oblivion.
Things begin to look more natural again. There were snow-banks in this neighborhood 39 feet high, more or less but they are rapidly disappearing. Everything is coming out again. As I look out of the window I notice about two inches of something black and round sticking out of a snow-drift.
The old cat has not been home since the storm, still that has nothing to do with this account.
I read in the Bulletin, and other papers sad stories of loos of life during the great storm but some of them may be lies. I think however it is wrong to exaggerate at such times.
There was another blizzard “set down” for Tuesday of this week, but for some reason it was indefinitely postponed. When it comes off, for friendship sake, dear Bulletin, write a nice little poem, not too sad, but just sad enough, to them memory of your departed. - author unknown
Taken from the North Jersey Historian Winter 2011, Vol.6, No.1:
By noon the Blizzard of 1888 that paralyzed the eastern sea-board had descended upon Morris County with a violent rage, that would continue unabated for 36 hours.
The temperature dropped to zero, and the harsh gale left snow drifts of more than 15 feet that blocked roads, knocked out telegraph service, and caused extensive damage to residences, businesses, and churches.
Windows were smashed, chimneys overturned, and roofs torn off—all due to the hurricane-like conditions that prevailed. For four days, no milk or news-papers were delivered, local butchers ran out of meat, and food provisions grew scarce.
Coal dealers could not adequately supply households, and families were left without heat in the bitter cold.
Travel ceased; the only train to leave Morristown on Monday morning got stuck near South Orange and could go no further.