Waiting, weather serve higher purpose

Holiday airline crowd crunch, faulty computers and difficult weather relieved terrorists of any need to disturb airline traffic this Christmas. One airline, Comair, canceled 1100 flights Christmas Day.

For the flying public, and worried relatives of the flying public, such delays meant frustration and waiting. And more waiting.

When my daughter's flight failed to arrive late Christmas night, I checked the online flight status page. The flight from Minneapolis to Aberdeen was supposed to arrive late, but after a half-hour still no plane appeared.

If it ever did land in Aberdeen, the flight was to continue to Watertown. The delay in that leg of the flight was due to "runway congestion." Runway congestion in Aberdeen? Perhaps there was an air show. Late Christmas night.

Suddenly, I suspected mechanical problems, icy wings, a sick pilot, a fiery mishap. If you have to wait, there must be a calamity. Nothing less than a calamity should make you wait in Aberdeen!

The plane arrived 40 minutes late. The flight status site had simply been neglected. Still, having to wait was difficult.

Urban travelers are accustomed to waiting. They wait 90 minutes to ask a motor vehicles department clerk for the right form, and another 90 minutes standing in line to turn in that form.

They wait three light changes at intersections and take 20 minutes to travel 5 miles down an interstate. At commute time, they add minutes, sometimes hours, to their schedules as a matter of course. Waiting is just part of the daily routine.

Here, though, waiting for three light changes is rare. Maybe minutes after a state tournament is over. Seldom are Dakotans forced to wait.

One great advantage of Aberdeen living is that crossing town takes 10 minutes or less. We have a great privilege in such mobility.

A friend once complained that it took too long to cross town. I was incredulous. I spent more time finding a parking space at my California college than I ever spent crossing Aberdeen!

Still, because we are used to not waiting, we are more ruffled when we do have to wait. We feel put upon when creeping through the fairgrounds after a show lets out on fair week.

We don't wait long in checkout lines. We don't wait long at the post office. We don't stand for hours waiting for tickets or paying bills.

Until this year, we especially never had to wait for snow.

This year --- in early November no less --- I overheard a guy complaining that there wasn't any snow yet.

"We could sure use some snow," he said. "Rain won't do. We need a good five inches of snow."

Five inches? Before Thanksgiving? Who would want that? He was either crazy or --- or he knows the best way to treat Northern Plains weather.

My first year in Aberdeen, snow came on Halloween. A fluke, I thought. After 12 years and many flukes, I gradually realized that late October snow was normal.

I began to dread winter. It lasted too long.

Then I dreaded fall because it was too short. Then I dreaded the end of summer because that meant no shirt-sleeve weather for nine months. After a while, the only time of year I enjoyed was the end of spring, and even that was poisoned by bitterness over how short summer would be.

But any freedom I lost moving to Aberdeen because of cold weather was balanced by reduction in waiting time. Visiting medical offices, registering cars, standing in checkout lanes, banking and getting around town --- take half the time they do in cities, or less. Each time I have to wait here, I know I am adding minutes of freedom to my lifetime tally.

It helps to remember that, and to foster the attitude of that snow enthusiast: Not just making the best of it, but cultivating a bring-it-on cheerfulness that melts bitter cynicism.

Hey, we could use a period of sub-zero temps, and none of this 5 below stuff. We need a good three weeks of 20-below days.

I'll keep practicing. Some day, maybe I'll even mean it.

Donna Marmorstein All rights reserved