The weather report was OK when I set off from Providence to go to Maine. As I got closer to the border, however, the gods changed the weather pattern (had I neglected to make the proper sacrifices?) and little snowflakes began as soon as I crossed the border. The snow got stronger and stronger the farther north I went, and by the time I exited the highway, it was up to my hubcaps. There I was, an effete southern New Englander (actually a former New Yorker) in a strange place, with no signs, the wind howling, the snow unplowed and no signs anywhere for the University.

My life passed before my eyes. I floundered until I found the University, and when I pulled in, there were no signs to direct me. Luckily I finally spotted 2 intrepid students, who directed me through snowbanks to the parking lot and the meeting.

"Sive casu sive consilio deorum" I arrived in one piece. I even found the hotel later that evening, showing me that despite my belief that the gods were against me, they indeed had watched over me.

However, I now have a pathologic fear of Maine, from the months of September to May. I truly hadn't seen that much snow since the blizzard of '78, which in Rhode Island has assumed mythic proportions.
-- Ruth Breindel