THE WEIRD MARCH WINTER OF 1960 by Sarah J. McNeal

Here we are in the deep freeze IN THE United States right now and although Charlotte isn’t getting any snow this year, back in 1960 in March of all months, it snowed—I mean really SNOWED—every Wednesday for three weeks in a row. Well, I was a kid back then and in the south we don’t go to school if someone even smells snow. So, the neighborhood kids, my sister, and I had a pretty dang good holiday that year.

But let’s face it, kids all holed up in the house for three seeks must be a pain for moms who, by the way in those days were mostly stay at home moms. We were all HIGHLY encouraged to go outside and play.

Luckily, my Yankee parents had some delightful sleds that suddenly became the center of the neighborhood kids’ attention. We had a huge hill and two sleds so, hello fun times. The really great thing about the snow that year was that it was also extremely cold. So all day the snow only melted enough so that overnight it froze into an ice sheet over the top of the snow making a nice slick, sled riding highway. Good thing, too, because we had already built all those snowmen and tried to kill each other with snowballs the first day. The snow was hard on top after that with the icy layer so we couldn’t build any more snow people or throw snowballs anymore.

I’m certain our parents were happy since all of us kids were occupied with sledding all day, we only came in for lunch or to warm our hands and back outside we went. I actually got a snow tan. Pop came out with me once and we rode down the hill together. His skills at sledding had faded so we crashed and burned spilling both of us off the sled. But that just added to the special memories for me.

I don’t recall ever having that kind of snow here again, but I remember that time with great joy.

The official climate report:

March 1960 remains the snowiest month on record in Charlotte.

How crazy was that March? It was and still is the snowiest month on record in Charlotte with 19.5” of snow for the entire month. That’s snowier than any other month including December, January and February. Even more, 1960 is the snowiest year on record in Charlotte as well. With 22.9”  of snowfall and 19.3” of that falling in March alone.

It was very cold as well!

It’s amazing to think that one month outside of Winter in one year can still be the record holder for snowfall in Charlotte.  Not only was it snowy it was frigid. The March of 1960 was the coldest March on record by 3.4°, and it was an astounding 11.5° below average.

There is good reason that so many people who were here remember the March of 1960. It will remain one the coldest and snowiest periods in the history of the area. For more information on that crazy March here is a great write-up that the National Weather Service Office in Greer, SC did in 2010. That was the 50 year anniversary of the memorable March.

For those of who were raised here during that time, do you remember that weird March in Charlotte? What did y’all do for fun? Now I know some of you experience this kind of winter weather every year where you live. Do you like that kind of snow that gets so hard on top you can walk on it? How did you spend your time as kids in winter? What about right now—are any of you living where this weather has gotten into the sub-zero category? Have you lost power? By the way, do you have a backup plan for power outages? What are you doing to amuse yourselves during this weather? What is the most memorable time from your childhood about winter weather?

 Charlotte Past And Present Face Book Page is a great place to check out pictures and stories of historical events here in Charlotte, NC just in case you might be interested.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/charlottencthepastandpresent/?multi_permalinks=2164470953634190&notif_id=1548693893677110&notif_t=group_highlights

3 Wednesdays graph in Charotte, NC 1960

https://i2.wp.com/wxbrad.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/2014-02-26_9-37-22.png

Sarah J. McNeal

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Nursing When It Was Like "Call The Midwife" by Sarah J. McNeal

Me at the CCU Nurse's Station at Mercy Hospital (1991?)

I binge-watched “Call The Midwife” on Netflix for days…and nights until I was on a zombie TV hangover. For those of you who know nothing about this series, it’s about nursing in London, England at the end of World War II when the country first instituted National Healthcare through 1962. I loved this series and I didn’t think I would. When I left nursing in the Emergency Department in 2009 to retire, I was burned out on nursing. After the medical center bought out the Sisters of Mercy in 1995, the demand for “excellent” care and the decrease in nursing personnel to carry that out made most nurses, including me, and especially veteran nurses who had been nursing for more than 10 years, feeling inadequate, worn out, and dissatisfied. On top of that, in order to cut costs on personnel and save money on wages, insurance, 401 K matching, and so forth, the administration decided all nurses were to work 12 hour shifts limited to 3 days a week and were dedicated to allowing no overtime. Consequently, patients were herded in and out of the department in record time. Quality care became a thing of the past. It got worse after I left according to some of my colleagues who still worked after I left.

So, when I watched this series about nurses dedicated to their patients, delivering the kind of care we used to give in the early years of my career, well, it took me back to those days when I loved my job. I actually woke up in the morning feeling a sense of purpose and eager to get to work and make a difference. My sister, who is also a retired nurse who specialized in psychiatric nursing, was on the same page I was about the change in nursing care then and now. I had the added pleasure of working with the Sisters of Mercy at Mercy Hospital. We changed sheets every single day and at night we changed the draw sheet (a thing of the past) and gave the patients a back rub and refreshments before their bedtime. We had time to do these things and it was encouraged and expected that we would CARE about those patients and spend time with them. And, for me, I had the addition of the nuns and a resident priest who not only administered to the patients, but to the staff, as well. Father King held mass every day in the chapel and he made rounds at every nurse’s station and patient’s room.

We were encouraged to go to classes and some of them were expensive, but we were allotted the money to take courses that would advance our knowledge and level of care. I went as far as Virginia Beach to take a 2 day seminar from Dr. Marriot, a well respected expert on EKG interpretation, to learn how to interpret electrocardiograms. It was fascinating and enlightening. Later on, I even taught 12 lead EKG interpretation and heart rhythms to nurses in the coronary care internship program. I loved that stuff. And I loved those patients and their families.

Things have changed. The Sisters of Mercy could not compete in the financial world medicine had grown into and sold Mercy Hospital to Carolinas Medical Center. New technology has saved numerous lives through the advancements made in medicine like stents and angioplasties along with so many other medicines, treatments, and diagnostic procedures. Nurses aren’t taught to give tender loving care to their patients anymore the way we were. It’s all about cost effectiveness and time management. But I will always remember with the greatness fondness that time I spent delivering care in the same way those nurses did in “Call The Midwife”, and the support and care I received from the Sisters of Mercy and Father King.

By the way, I saw in the news yesterday that the shortage of nurses is so great now hospitals are offering 5 digit sign on bonuses as well as benefits, better hours, and great pay. It’s a hard, often grinding job, but maybe things are changing. Maybe they are coming full circle now and nurses can give the kind of care that nurses and patients both want.

One more little bit of trivia. Do any of you remember when there were ashtrays in the patients’ rooms and patients and visitors were allowed to smoke anywhere and everywhere? I remember one of the nuns, who shall remain nameless, who used to smoke in the utility closet. Just sayin’…

A Place of Memories

I have a special connection to central Pennsylvania, especially the northern, agricultural area around Numidia, Catawissa, Sunbury, and Bloomsburg. My parents were born and raised in the area, in fact, my entire family originated there--even me. I was born in Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania, a small college town where most of the houses are old Victorian beauties with well tended yards filled with flowers in the spring and summer and surrounded by soft, round-topped mountains.
We visited this area so often when I was young to reunite with my grandparents, family members, and old friends of my parents. Sometimes my sister and I would spend summer vacation time there. It's such a beautiful place with the Susquehanna River running through those lush green mountains, valleys where the farmers create fields that look like patchwork quilts. 

I remember the quiet, the fun running outside in our bathing suites to enjoy the rain, picking sweet, wild strawberries, and Sunday visits to my grandmother's friends most of whom lived on Mt. Carmel and Bear Mountain. They would exchange gifts of their handy work, like homemade baked goods, crocheted items, and quilts. I loved playing with all the kids. My grandmother loved to fish and she often packed a picnic and took us with her. We would spend our time playing in the water while she fished. Such great fun. We went to church bazaars, ice cream socials, and church picnics and ate delicious food and played games with other kids--and once, I actually won a peanut pushing race.
I only remember the 8 months of actually living in Pennsylvania when I was 4 years old. We lived in Luthersburg, a small town not too far from Pittsburg. I have so many warm memories of living there and the people who were so friendly and kind to us.

When the weather station closed in Luthersburg, we moved to Charlotte, NC where I have lived most of my life. 
Since my parents are gone, I seldom go back to Pennsylvania. Sometimes I miss it. I have gone to Catawissa and Numidia a couple times to see to the placing of a monument on my paternal grandparents' and Uncle John's graves.

While I stood there at The Hillside Cemetery and looked around at the rounded mountains surrounding the town, I felt a kind of homesickness for a place that held so many memories of my childhood and had now become a place where my ancestors can only whisper to me on the wind. It still tugs at my heart.