Reply #3: Well told, huskerlaw.

[Ptah]

I felt like I was there while reading that.

I'd like to share a story from our family archives.
It recounts the blizzard of 1888, in Nebraska.
I thought of it when you posted about almost not getting out of Nebraska,
and again to day, with your letting me know your grandmother.

<snip>
The Blizzard

On Thursday morning, January 12th, word came that our teacher could
not be at her desk until noon. Director Father went with us that day to
school on that eventful day and was substitute teacher for three hours in
District #33. About 2:30 PM, with but a few minutes warning, came one
of the most violent mass of whirling, fast freezing, powdery snow. Sixteen
scholars and teacher, assisted by neighbor Littell and the older pupils,
managed to reach a fence line and battle our blinded way to the
Littell farm residence. Here we unbundled to nurse our frosted spots
and were sheltered for the night.

Father's first thought at home was of we three and of the other scholars
that might try to reach home and at once set out for the school house,
one mile distant. He reached the Littell home before we had arrived and
again set foot for the school building which he never found. The Littells
fired shots in the air at intervals, hoping that Father might hear and so
be guided to safety should he be nearby. That night had the longest
hours we ever experienced - knowing that Father snowbound could not
possibly ride such storm and we in utter helplessness. Early the next morning,
the storm past, we struggled our way homeward to a reunion that was
worth the angels recording.

After many hours struggle - missing his way to the school - hoping,
fighting to reach some shelter before his waning strength failed him,
Father found a building - rested a bit - stumbled his way to a door
AND MOTHER HELPED HIM IN !!!! Their night too was a long one
with silent, earnest prayer for the guidance of the Almighty upon their
children and for scholars and teachers everywhere.

<snip>