By Gery Deer
It’s a snow day! When the Miami Valley wakes up under a fresh layer of snow, it’s easy to marvel at the postcard scene outside the window. But once the beauty wears off and the day begins, reality sets in: snow doesn’t just fall — it complicates everything. From the moment flakes start sticking, people begin weighing a thousand tiny decisions, most of them involving whether they really need to leave the house. And on an actual snow-emergency day, the smartest thing you can do may be to simply sit still.
Local travel is usually the first thing to rethink. Emergency management agencies classify conditions in stages for a reason. When your county hits a Level 2 or 3, that’s the universe gently suggesting you reevaluate how urgent that trip to Kroger really is. Roads glazed with snow or hidden sheets of ice aren’t just inconvenient; they eliminate any sense of control a driver might think they have. Unless you’re a first responder or someone who must physically be at work to function, staying off the roads isn’t just a personal safety decision — it’s a public service, giving plows and salt trucks the room they need.
Parents know the drill better than anyone: snow means checking school websites and social media with an intensity usually reserved for playoff scores. A delay may buy more time to clear buses and parking lots, while a closing often indicates conditions that simply won’t improve quickly enough. The schools aren’t being dramatic; they’re thinking about children waiting at bus stops in the dark, buses navigating untreated roads, and teen drivers who, despite their confidence, don’t yet have the experience to predict how a car behaves on ice. In these moments, the safest classroom is often the living room.
Adults face their own version of this decision when it comes to work. Many employers have embraced remote options, but not everyone has that luxury. The rule of thumb is simple: if your local authorities have issued a travel warning, it’s time to have a candid conversation with your boss. No paycheck is worth sliding through an intersection sideways. Responsible employers understand that a late arrival beats no arrival at all, and an employee calling in safe beats one calling in from a ditch.
Even those staying home aren’t entirely off the hook. Snow doesn’t shovel itself, and for many people, the driveway becomes the day’s primary battleground. But shoveling is more than clearing a path — it’s a legitimate physical workout, the kind that has sent more than a few otherwise healthy people to the emergency room. Pushing heavy, wet snow raises blood pressure and heart rate faster than most people expect. Taking smaller loads, working slowly, and stopping the moment you feel winded or lightheaded can make the difference between a cleared driveway and a medical emergency. If you own a snowblower, remember that the machine can clog, and attempting to clear it while it’s running has ended more than a few fingers. Turn it off. Always.
The truth is, snow days are a peculiar mix of joy and jeopardy. Kids see sleds and cocoa. Adults see commutes, delays, and strained shoulders. Yet buried in all that hassle is a small opportunity: permission to pause. Maybe the safest way to handle a snow emergency is to treat it as a reminder that not everything must happen right now. Roads will clear. Schools will reopen. Work will wait. And if you approach the day with a little common sense — the kind your grandparents preached long before weather apps existed — you’ll be around to enjoy the next snow day too, instead of spending it in a tow truck or an ER waiting room.
Winter storms demand respect, not fear. And if we keep our priorities straight — safety over schedules, caution over convenience — we can get through them with little more than cold toes and a warm story to tell once the sun comes back out. *
Note: You can stay up to date by watching The Jamestown Comet.com Facebook page. We post regular updates, share news and weather information from all of the major local outlets, and national news that affects you here at home.
The Jamestown Comet 