There is a law in Meadville that sidewalks need to be shoveled in a reasonable time after a snowfall. Of course, when a snowfall goes on for weeks, the spirit of the law (making sidewalks walkable) is lost. I hear that the law was changed to recapture the spirit, but as a person who walks to work every day, I can tell you that the spirit is still lost on many sections of the Meadville footpaths.
Accentuating the positive, I'll say that the award for best sidewalk, consistently, Monday through Friday goes to the Crawford County Historical Society on Chestnut Street. There may be snow and ice on either end, but the section that is their responsibility is clear, and if possible, dry from edge to edge and end to end including the strip leading up to the front door. I don't know if it's volunteers, employees or people contracted for the sole purpose of sidewalk clearing, but whoever it is does a bang up job.
The other end of the spectrum, of course, is really bad, so bad that if I can, I jump the plow ridge into the street to walk. These are, for the most part, rental properties occupied by Allegheny College students who have no thought in their heads for the walking public. It's the owner's responsibility anyway, I suppose, but what I know is that the snow is over a foot deep in some places, and the worst sections are where high-speed plows have sloshed icy chunks over the ridge, making the footpath a dangerous obstacle course of big icy chunks across the entire width.
I have slipped and fallen twice since I started walking over the wintry walkways of Meadville. So far I've picked myself up and brushed myself off with no damage. The good news is - the snow will probably stop by June.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Lake Effect
We've had it described to us by numerous people on numerous occasions since we first expressed interest in moving to the Lake Erie area. Moisture from the lake is absorbed into the atmosphere above, turned into snow, and dumped on the surrounding countryside. Meadville, they told us, is pretty much at the far side if the lake effect belt. Sometimes we get it, sometimes we don't. The day before yesterday we witnessed this phenomenon first hand.
The Reverend Carmen was covering for the Youngstown, Ohio minister while he was on vacation, and it happened that a Youngstown member needed a memorial service performed during that time. So Saturday, with dense snow falling all around us, we set out on snowy roads for Youngstown. Rev. Carmen kept asking if we were crazy to be doing this in such obviously awful weather, but onward we trekked.
About thirty miles south on Interstate 79, we suddenly ran out of the snow. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, the roads were dry. We got to Youngstown on the most beautiful day we'd seen in weeks.
She did the service, we ate an early supper, and then lit out back to Meadville. Right around the same part of I-79, we slammed back into snow, worse than the morning's offering, blinding almost white-out snow, and it was impossible to see the lines on the road. To make matters worse, it was getting dark. We'd been making a shopping list on the way, but it was abandoned with our effort to stay on the highway. At last we came to the Meadville exit, but alas, no-one had exited there in a while. There were no tracks to follow, nothing but a guard rail to indicate where the exit might be.
We reached 322 safely and steered for home. There would be no stops along the way. We got here and she tried to back in - to no avail. She trudged through deep snow, leaving the car at the end of the driveway while I trotted out my new snow blower. I snew blew and shoveled, backed the car in and shut the garage - SAFE!
The next morning I had to snow blow again to get out for church. There was a pretty good crowd there, even with the snow still pouring down. Here in Lake Effectville, you don't let snow stop you. If you do, you'll be pretty much stopped from the end of November until the end of April.
The Reverend Carmen was covering for the Youngstown, Ohio minister while he was on vacation, and it happened that a Youngstown member needed a memorial service performed during that time. So Saturday, with dense snow falling all around us, we set out on snowy roads for Youngstown. Rev. Carmen kept asking if we were crazy to be doing this in such obviously awful weather, but onward we trekked.
About thirty miles south on Interstate 79, we suddenly ran out of the snow. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, the roads were dry. We got to Youngstown on the most beautiful day we'd seen in weeks.
She did the service, we ate an early supper, and then lit out back to Meadville. Right around the same part of I-79, we slammed back into snow, worse than the morning's offering, blinding almost white-out snow, and it was impossible to see the lines on the road. To make matters worse, it was getting dark. We'd been making a shopping list on the way, but it was abandoned with our effort to stay on the highway. At last we came to the Meadville exit, but alas, no-one had exited there in a while. There were no tracks to follow, nothing but a guard rail to indicate where the exit might be.
We reached 322 safely and steered for home. There would be no stops along the way. We got here and she tried to back in - to no avail. She trudged through deep snow, leaving the car at the end of the driveway while I trotted out my new snow blower. I snew blew and shoveled, backed the car in and shut the garage - SAFE!
The next morning I had to snow blow again to get out for church. There was a pretty good crowd there, even with the snow still pouring down. Here in Lake Effectville, you don't let snow stop you. If you do, you'll be pretty much stopped from the end of November until the end of April.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Re CALC Ulating!
My new job with the local Meadville PA Sherwin Williams store is titled "Part Time Sales Associate." The short term is "Delivery Boy." I did not know this when I signed on, but it became clear during my second week when the assistant manager, Vinnie, outlined a long list of things I needed to know about this job - including outfitting the delivery van with whatever personal stuff (gloves, boots, maps) might come in handy during my many deliveries. As it sunk in that this was really what the job is all about, a little spark of joy fired up for "The Gospel Of Rand McNally." I've been waiting for months for a Gospel-worthy trip to come along, and last week one did.
In addition to deliveries, I also do trips to other stores to pick up product we are short on when a customer needs it and can't wait for the next regular Wednesday delivery. I've gone to Franklin, about twenty five miles away, Erie, about thirty five miles, and last week I was told to come in early, dress comfortably, MapQuest a route, bring my GPS and whatever else I might need, and drive to Solon, Ohio, a southern suburb of Cleveland about ninety miles away. I bought road snacks the night before, packed my Rand McNally Road Atlas (of course!) and everything else into my backpack and made it to work well before 11:00.
Before starting out I programmed my destination into Hermione, our GPS. She has a British accent and thinks she knows everything. Hence the name. I had a pretty good idea how I wanted to go, but it's always interesting to hear Hermione's version of things. Sometimes she has a really good idea. Mostly, though, she is fixated on Interstate Highways and will try everything in her arsenal to steer me toward them.
Stage one of the trip: get out of Meadville. In this case, the way to go was to head west on US 322. Hermione was very much in favor of that plan. When I passed right by Interstate 79, she didn't object at all, which came as a shock to me. Then she surprised me again by telling me to turn right on State Road 98. Thinking maybe she knew something, and not having an opportunity to check my map, I turned. Almost immediately I remembered that I had been on this stretch of road before, from one delivery northwest of Meadville to another due south. Hmmm. So I found myself on the map and decided to ride with Her for a while longer. When I came to 198, she directed me to turn left, which I was planning to do anyway. She could have sent me right, to I-79 up there. She didn't. Hmmmm.
So we continued west, on into Ohio, and there she tipped her hand. At State Road 7 she told me to turn right, which would take me directly to Interstate 90 to Cleveland. Aha! So I turned left. "Re - Calc - Ulating!" she hissed. I know this side of her pretty well by now. First she tries to talk me into a U-turn to bring me back into her clutches. Then she directs me onto side roads that will soon bring me back around to her way of thinking. I was going to US 6, where I would turn west again. I knew she wouldn't like it, but I didn't care. If worse comes to worst, I can mute her snippy little self. What I can't do is change her Estimated Time of Arrival, which she adds to every time she recalculates.
As I worked my way west and south, in addition to Hermione's disappointment in me, I also had to watch out for Amish horse and buggy units. I passed three or four going my way, and a few going the other way. It's that part of the country. It wasn't pouring down snow for the first time in weeks, so it was a good day for horse and buggying around.
I turned south on State Road 11, a limited access washboard that I endured for twenty miles or so (actually it was five - it only seemed like twenty) until I exited onto US 322, the highway I started out on way back in Meadville. As I headed west again, Hermione finally got back on board with my initial plan - 322 to State Road 44 to US 422 to Solon. We got along famously for a good while, and when we got to Solon, she guided me smoothly to my destination. Five minutes to use the rest room, load the paint and do the paperwork, and we were back on the road again.
I don't know if she was tired of arguing with me or what, but she took me right back to Pennsylvania the way I wanted to go. We had a slight disagreement at State Road 7, which would have taken me around the north side of the lake. I stayed on 322 around the south side, and made it back to the store well before four.
In addition to deliveries, I also do trips to other stores to pick up product we are short on when a customer needs it and can't wait for the next regular Wednesday delivery. I've gone to Franklin, about twenty five miles away, Erie, about thirty five miles, and last week I was told to come in early, dress comfortably, MapQuest a route, bring my GPS and whatever else I might need, and drive to Solon, Ohio, a southern suburb of Cleveland about ninety miles away. I bought road snacks the night before, packed my Rand McNally Road Atlas (of course!) and everything else into my backpack and made it to work well before 11:00.
Before starting out I programmed my destination into Hermione, our GPS. She has a British accent and thinks she knows everything. Hence the name. I had a pretty good idea how I wanted to go, but it's always interesting to hear Hermione's version of things. Sometimes she has a really good idea. Mostly, though, she is fixated on Interstate Highways and will try everything in her arsenal to steer me toward them.
Stage one of the trip: get out of Meadville. In this case, the way to go was to head west on US 322. Hermione was very much in favor of that plan. When I passed right by Interstate 79, she didn't object at all, which came as a shock to me. Then she surprised me again by telling me to turn right on State Road 98. Thinking maybe she knew something, and not having an opportunity to check my map, I turned. Almost immediately I remembered that I had been on this stretch of road before, from one delivery northwest of Meadville to another due south. Hmmm. So I found myself on the map and decided to ride with Her for a while longer. When I came to 198, she directed me to turn left, which I was planning to do anyway. She could have sent me right, to I-79 up there. She didn't. Hmmmm.
So we continued west, on into Ohio, and there she tipped her hand. At State Road 7 she told me to turn right, which would take me directly to Interstate 90 to Cleveland. Aha! So I turned left. "Re - Calc - Ulating!" she hissed. I know this side of her pretty well by now. First she tries to talk me into a U-turn to bring me back into her clutches. Then she directs me onto side roads that will soon bring me back around to her way of thinking. I was going to US 6, where I would turn west again. I knew she wouldn't like it, but I didn't care. If worse comes to worst, I can mute her snippy little self. What I can't do is change her Estimated Time of Arrival, which she adds to every time she recalculates.
As I worked my way west and south, in addition to Hermione's disappointment in me, I also had to watch out for Amish horse and buggy units. I passed three or four going my way, and a few going the other way. It's that part of the country. It wasn't pouring down snow for the first time in weeks, so it was a good day for horse and buggying around.
I turned south on State Road 11, a limited access washboard that I endured for twenty miles or so (actually it was five - it only seemed like twenty) until I exited onto US 322, the highway I started out on way back in Meadville. As I headed west again, Hermione finally got back on board with my initial plan - 322 to State Road 44 to US 422 to Solon. We got along famously for a good while, and when we got to Solon, she guided me smoothly to my destination. Five minutes to use the rest room, load the paint and do the paperwork, and we were back on the road again.
I don't know if she was tired of arguing with me or what, but she took me right back to Pennsylvania the way I wanted to go. We had a slight disagreement at State Road 7, which would have taken me around the north side of the lake. I stayed on 322 around the south side, and made it back to the store well before four.
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