On this day in history...
Snow in Miami 1977: On January 19, 1977, the unthinkable happened. It snowed in Miami. Actual snowflakes were reported at Miami Beach and as far south as the northern Florida Keys for the first time in recorded history. Homestead, Florida, recorded a trace of snow. The rare snow was followed by one of the worst freezes during the twentieth century in the Sunshine State. Temperatures were at or below freezing over the entire Florida Peninsula, on the night of January 19-20. The mercury dropped to 27°F in Homestead. It was 27°F in West Palm Beach and 32°F in Miami Beach, both all-time records. Florida economic damage totaled $2 billion, mainly citrus and vegetable crop losses.
Snow. In Florida. I remember this very vaguely; I was in the second grade at the time. Of course, the snow melted as soon as it hit the ground. The only other times I've seen real (i.e., more than a foot) snow were when I visited my friend's relatives in Pennsylvania. My friend, Cindy, and I were 10. We'd never seen real snow before. Aside from the monster snowball fight that I started our first night there, we built an igloo, went sledding (and hit a tree), and stared with wonder at the icebergs floating in the Delaware River.
The second time I saw real snow was when I visited New York in December. It was in the 30s and some of the snow had melted, leaving an icy slush in its wake. I still vividly remember going to Grand Central Station to board a train that would take us to Syracuse, New York (where my friends lived) from New York City. I remember watching the skyline fade into smallness behind me and the tenements of Harlem, all crumbling bricks and fading paint, in which I saw hopelessness. Then, as we turned to head north under an industrial gray sky, it began to snow. It was magical. Tiny white flakes like sprinkles on a sundae falling to earth to land on gray mountains or an icy blue lake.
Snow. In Florida. I remember this very vaguely; I was in the second grade at the time. Of course, the snow melted as soon as it hit the ground. The only other times I've seen real (i.e., more than a foot) snow were when I visited my friend's relatives in Pennsylvania. My friend, Cindy, and I were 10. We'd never seen real snow before. Aside from the monster snowball fight that I started our first night there, we built an igloo, went sledding (and hit a tree), and stared with wonder at the icebergs floating in the Delaware River.
The second time I saw real snow was when I visited New York in December. It was in the 30s and some of the snow had melted, leaving an icy slush in its wake. I still vividly remember going to Grand Central Station to board a train that would take us to Syracuse, New York (where my friends lived) from New York City. I remember watching the skyline fade into smallness behind me and the tenements of Harlem, all crumbling bricks and fading paint, in which I saw hopelessness. Then, as we turned to head north under an industrial gray sky, it began to snow. It was magical. Tiny white flakes like sprinkles on a sundae falling to earth to land on gray mountains or an icy blue lake.