Whitewater News & Opinion for Wednesday, March 8, 2023

Editor’s note: This week’s news is from Helen Austin’s book “Whitewater School.”

Chapter 5. Slumber Party in the Blizzard

The north wind howled and blew icy snow into high drifts along the banks of the tiny Whitewater Creek and into the schoolyard where classmates, teachers, and I were trapped overnight in February of 1950, because of the worst blizzard in Montana history. A blizzard which created a night to live forever in our memories.

The day began like others, cold, with softly falling snow. But by afternoon, temperatures had fallen to subzero, and snow blew in icy sheets, causing a chill factor of maybe 50 below! The teachers said, “country kids cannot go home due to the storm.” Arrangements will be made for you to spend the night in town.”

Some cheered, some groaned.

“But I can go home, I live in town,” I smugly told a friend. I was 10, and in the fifth grade and a homebody. My brother and sister had made it home already.

At recess, the teachers announced, “No one is to go to the outhouse alone. We will go together. Please join hands.” So, we trudged to the necessary destination in a chain made by joining hands. Soon after we returned, the announcement came,

“Those who live close to the school may go home, escorted by high school boys and men teachers. The rest of you will remain at school overnight!” I admit it, I was a mama’s baby. I wanted to go home.

“Can’t someone take me home?” I asked, “I don’t live far.” So, they had a conference and discovered that mom was at the storekeeper’s house, about a block away from the school. She had braved the storm to find her lost children.

She had no phone, they could not tell her we were safe, and although it had been on the radio, she did not hear it.

“You can’t stay there; there are already too many people there for them to accommodate,” said the teachers. So, I would have to spend the night at school!

It turned out to be a real experience, even fun! We played games, talked, laughed (as much as possible in our prison situation), and then ate supper. “It’s suppertime!” someone said, as the teacher brought out a tray for supper. It was peanut butter sandwiches and sour cherries, the only food available in the kitchen. To starving kids, it was delicious!

Outside the world was swirling white, in the gathering darkness and the wind howled, making the old schoolhouse cold and draughty. If only we had entertainment to take our minds off the storm.

Movie time,” a teacher announced as he entered with a film. “Yay!” and handclapping, then the lights went out.

But some of the films were certainly conducive to nightmares, as they were about wars, soldiers, guns, tanks, and violence. (These movies were ordered for the GI’s of the area, who were in a training program.) But the teachers HAD to have entertainment for us. One of the movies was a children’s show. I forget the name, but it was a comedy, maybe a “Ma Kettle” series.

“BEDTIME, everyone!” OOOH NO,” we all groaned, “No one is to go outside; a pail is in the cloak room if you need it,” was the next announcement. (Thank goodness for small favors.)

We finally bedded down in the makeshift mats made by the heavy draperies from the high school gym. They were wide enough so two could lie side by side, lengthways. Next to me, my favorite teacher, who eased my loneliness.

Most kids talked and giggled until wee hours, all the time being quieted by the poor tired teachers. In later years, we had slumber parties, much the same, only this particular night was, from necessity, of being snowed in.

The next day was Saturday. We rose early, stared out at the now quiet, white, and clean landscape, donned our coats. (Some had worn them all night,) We braved the quiet, after yesterday’s raging storm, shivered in the subzero temperatures, and fought our way through the drifts, some piled eight feet high!

We felt a kinship, we had been through a crisis and survived. An unforgettable experience. What an adventure to tell the grandchildren about!

Helen Austin, Editor