COLUMN: A real white-out

From Lisa Levenson's "First Person," Fall '96 From Lisa Levenson's "First Person," Fall '96The "Blizzard of '96" offeredFrom Lisa Levenson's "First Person," Fall '96The "Blizzard of '96" offeredits East Coast victims an op-From Lisa Levenson's "First Person," Fall '96The "Blizzard of '96" offeredits East Coast victims an op-portunity for reflection. From Lisa Levenson's "First Person," Fall '96The "Blizzard of '96" offeredits East Coast victims an op-portunity for reflection.Water is one of the most interesting compounds here on Earth, scientifically speaking. Freeze it, and instead of shrinking like most sensible substances, it expands. Boil it, and it virtually disappears -- though when it cascades down in sheets from the clouds, as it often does in our fair city, you'd never miss it. Airports closed, roads were impassable, and even the postmen couldn't live up to their promise to stay on their appointed rounds whatever the weather. Amtrak's trains were running less frequently than normal, and seats were "first-come, first-serve," according to the dispatcher with whom I spoke. Admittedly, there are some good things about snow. It looks pretty, for one. And, well, um? OK, give me a couple of 110-degree August days, and I'm sure I can come up with a litany of reasons why we should appreciate this storm. You've got time -- you weren't really planning to go anywhere in this weather, were you? In elementary school, I learned that no two snowflakes are alike. But last week's storm presented me with an opportunity to do some empirical research of my own. Having observed the snow drifts on my driveway at length from the comfort of my living room, I can tell you with absolute certainty that the 97.6 million or so snowflakes that fell around my house and in my backyard looked pretty much the same. To make matters worse, these flakes decided to band together (due to water's high surface tension, I suppose) and make sure I didn't take the car anywhere. So much for picking up a few essentials before returning to school. By last Monday night, when the University decided to take the almost-unprecedented step of closing for two consecutive days, I wasn't sure I would ever get back. But here I am. A big snow is exciting when you're young, especially when it results in days off from school. Putting on heavy boots and all those extra layers mandated by mom before going out the door becomes fun when you know that after throwing snowballs, building snowmen and sledding for a few hours, there will be hot chocolate waiting in the kitchen. Snow of unprecedented proportions is more enjoyable still when you're in college, and Mother Nature gives you an unexpected extension on your already-overdue reading -- as any junior or senior here can attest from experience with two mammoth storms in the winter of 1994. But a storm like the one that hit Philadelphia -- and every other city within a 300-mile radius -- last week also offers its hapless victims a chance to take stock of their lives. Americans seem to think this weather-induced reflection is an obligatory post-New Year's activity anyway, so here goes. Last month, Fagin announced that she would retire after a sabbatical. Lazerson has returned to teaching in the Graduate School of Education, Hale is no longer here (thanks to her involvement in the scandals that shook the Department of Housing and Urban Development in the 1980s), and the SJRC's judicial charter is stuck somewhere in the purgatory between Provost Stanley Chodorow's office and the Council of Undergraduate Deans. The pace of progress? About as fast as all this white stuff is melting. You can tell it's been a bad winter when television weathermen begin shrieking "snow advisory!" if their radar equipment predicts a few inches of accumulation. To get the mess outside off my mind, I've been trying to make spring break plans. Of course, these efforts are being hampered by the fact that everyone in the United States is currently trying to reach his or her airline of choice to rebook flights missed last week. We haven't decided where we're going yet, but Florida and a cruise are on the short list. The way this winter's going, we'll probably encounter a hurricane, typhoon or freak March freeze while trying to relax. Still, now that I have survived the "Blizzard of '96," I feel confident that I can deal with any of these calamities. It won't be long before the T-shirt printers and television newscasters are hawking souvenirs of the storm, so that you can curl up by a roaring fire with a Memorex copy of the snow next time real live winter is too mild for your taste. I'm thinking about getting in on the act, since I saved some of the snow that drifted three feet deep in the parking lot behind my house last week. Want to be the first student on your block living in an igloo? I've got plans and materials, and they're going fast?