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Page 13 · column 1 of 6 · from the scan, no model involved
By MARIANNE WILSON
Rappahannock News Contributing Writer
The “little house” that will be the family apartment for Charles and me arrives April 22. It should have been more than enough excitement, particularly with the long anticipated trip to the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York scheduled for the 1st through the 5th of April. However...
After a perfectly enjoyable Easter Sunday — warm, sunny and shared with good company, Betty and I left Rappahannock County early Monday morning. The news and weather channel calmly mentioned the possibility of a winter storm, but hey, 1 was bom and raised in the snow belt of Upstate New York. What to worry!
Betty, bom and raised in Florida, elected to drive the first leg of the trip. Between Carlisle and Harrisburg, Pa. it started to snow and I found myself behind the wheel. Neither the roads or traffic were too bad and we anticipated a late afternoon arrival on the cooking school campus.
As we approached Wilkes-Barre we noticed traffic stopped on 181 South and the roads north were becoming slushy — but nothing we couldn’t handles. Off 181 to 1380 to 184, the short truck route through the mountains from Scranton to the New York state line and beyond. What’s this, not plowed, not sanded or salted? But it is the road created for heavy commercial traffic and the trucks are rolling along. It’s less than 30 miles to Milford, Pa. and we can stop for coffee, gas for the car and be in Hyde Park in plenty of time for our 8:30 p.m. orientation meeting. After all it is only a little after 1 p.m.
By 3 p.m. we were peering through thick snow fall, driving only 10 miles after having been stopped for an hour for a still unexplained reason. We had just passed a rest area and had decided not to stop for fear we wouldn’t be able to start again, when all traffic came to a total stop. It was 3:15 p.m.!
At 4:30 p.m., we called the school and told them it didn’t look like we would make the orientation meeting. They said they’d leave our keys to the
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