This story was written by my mother, Frances Cohen, in ~2006, after she and my father, Bill Cohen, moved into Coburg Village, an independent living facility in Rexford, New York. A natural storyteller, my mother joined a writing group and wrote down many of her stories for posterity. It is a joy to share them with you!
The weather plays an important part of our life. At times, we wish that we could change the weather, but as we have learned it is one of the things in life we cannot change.
Sometimes prayers help. On two occasions, our prayers were answered when we planned outdoor receptions. One was for the retirement party Bill and I planned at our cottage on Lake Champlain during the summer of 1983. The second was at the wedding reception for my granddaughter that was held on my daughter and son-in-law’s front lawn in Clifton Park in October 2007. At both parties, the weather was perfect: sunny, 72 degrees, with no wind. We considered it a miracle!
Our prayers did not work when Bill, my daughter Marilyn and I had to travel from Keeseville to Rockland County for our son Jay and our future daughter-in-law Leslie’s engagement party in December 1970. A Nor’easter started the day we were supposed to leave, so we delayed the trip until the next morning in hopes the weather would improve. Unfortunately, the snow only got heavier. By the time we arrived in Albany, the New York Thruway was closed. Determined not t miss the party, we decided to take Route Nine for the rest of the trip. The roads and visibility were terrible. Atone point, Bill stopped at a railroad crossing as the gate was down and the lights were flashing. The snow was so thick that Marilyn, who was sitting in the back seat, thought we were actually on the tracks and began screaming in fear. When we all calmed down, we continued on the trip. We arrived in Pearl River at 11 o’clock at night, sixteen hours after leaving Keeseville for what should have been a four-to-five-hour trip. It was one of the most difficult trips we ever made. In 1980, the year before we retired, our cousins invited us to visit them in Florida. When the day of our flight arrived, we left our cottage on Lake Champlain to drive to Montreal, the closest airport. When we crossed the border to Montreal, the snow was piled so deep that drifts were at places two stories high. As we crossed over a bridge near the airport, Bill lost control of the car, and we did a complete 360-degree turn, landing in a soft snowbank. Fortunately, there was no damage, so we were able to continue the trip to the airport. When we arrived in Florida, it was 85 degrees, and our cousins welcomed us in summer attire. Bill and I looked at each other and said, “This is paradise!” We couldn’t change the weather, but we could change our location. Right then and there, we decided that before next winter, we would sell our business, have a going-out-of-business sale, and spend our winters in Florida and summer at our cottage by the lake.
We were fortunate to be snowbirds for many years. It was the best of both worlds: Beautiful summers on Lake Champlain and warm, balmy winters in Florida. We thought we had it made—until Hurricane Wilma hit in 2005.
At that point, Bill and I were living full time in a condominium in Wynmoor, an over-fifty housing complex in Coconut Creek, Florida. The Weather Channel and local officials had warned us in advance of the incoming hurricane, and we had made sure to purchase water, canned food, and extra batteries. The night the hurricane hit, we did a lot of praying. The winds and rain were very strong, and we were very frightened. We were so thankful that our building had been spared any serious damage. We woke up to no electricity and no air conditioning in the 85-degree heat. For the first few days, we stayed in our condominium, living on the canned goods that we had purchased before the hurricane. When the electricity finally came back in our condominium, we decided to go food shopping for milk, eggs, and other food to restock our pantry and refrigerator. At that point, we were able to see the actual extent of the damage in the area. We saw lots of fallen trees, some of which had crashed into parked cars. With all the wires down and traffic lights out, getting to even the supermarket was almost impossible.
When we finally got to Publix, the store was dark and eerie as it was powered by back-up generators. We learned as the week went on that thousands of trees had been destroyed in our residential area. More tragically, a number of other residential areas, including Hawaiian Gardens, the original complex we had moved out of only four years before, were so badly damaged that they were unlivable and eventually had to be completely torn down.
In the middle of all this stress, when I was getting in the car to take another trip to the supermarket a week after the hurricane hit, I caught my foot on the curb while trying to get out of our parked car and broke a bone in my leg. That was the final straw. Our children felt strongly that we needed to get out of Florida and its hurricanes and move back up north. By spring, 2006, we were settled in Coburg Village, four miles from my daughter and son-in-law. At Coburg, we don’t need to drive, as the shuttle takes us everywhere. Our children are close enough so they can go shopping for us if the weather is too bad. So, when bad weather comes, we are able to just look out the window and enjoy our cozy apartment. Now we can be thankful for the snow so that grandchildren can ski, the rain that makes our flowers and gardens grown, and the beautiful sun that makes us all happy.
The photo of me with a rubber chicken was taken in Keesevile around 1954 after a bad snowstorm. No idea why I had a rubber chicken!
There Goes My Heart 