The weight of snow quieted the city for about half a day. I took a walk on Sunday morning right down the middle of the street, respecting the power of snowfall to render the roar of automobiles inert. Pleased that it melts as it will and not before it will, I was content to calm myself and go where I could when I could and not before I could. I took the rapid to Tower City and watched Fugitive Pieces and Jar City at the film festival.

I am still disconcerted by the reactions of many Clevelanders to the 15 inches of snow that accumulated last weekend. People were galled that the City Administration couldn’t “poof” the snow from the streets by Monday morning. When the plows did pass through, they were miffed that it stacked the snow at the edge of their driveways. These people had to go somewhere, soon and fast. They are important and pay taxes and have a given right to not have snow get in their way.

Last weekend and the beginning of the work week were a testament to how freaked out people get when they can’t drive. And how triumphant they feel when they can shovel out—roaring down the street, peeling out on ice, disregarding pedestrians—as if they are somehow apart from the natural world. Then, they freaked out again when the snow blocked their usual parking spaces.