Snowmageddon Hits DeKalb: Blizzard of 1987

The Legendary “Snowpocalypse” of 1987: When DeKalb Earned Its Frosty Crown

Enter Snowmageddon, Stage Left

Ah, DeKalb, Illinois—the land where corn dreams big and so, apparently, does snowfall. In 1987, the town found itself the unwilling darling of winter’s ice cold mockumentary, forever known as the “Blizzard of 1987.” This wasn’t your average flurry fit for hot cocoa contemplation; no, it was a full-on antarctic apocalypse served with a garnish of hysteria and a side dish of abject disbelief.

Meteorological Mischief: Nature’s Dastardly Plot

How, you may ask, does a town earn its PhD in snowology overnight? By virtue of a climate cocktail mixed by an Arctic bartender with a malicious streak. An avalanche of cold air with a disposition chillier than a polar bear’s backside collided with Gulf moisture more clingy than an ex on social media. The result? A luxurious layer cake of 24 inches of pure, unadulterated snowmageddon, with gusty winds giving quite the performance fit for an impromptu dance-off.

Human Antics and Frosty Shenanigans

It’s no surprise that DeKalb was temporarily rebranded as a winter wonderland, whether it liked it or not. School buses took on a second job as makeshift sledges, while kids rejoiced at school closures, fashioning themselves into dauntless snow sorcerers full of imaginative mischief. Businesses slammed their doors shut, and commuters found themselves marooned like penguins in a particularly inept reality TV show. Meanwhile, the humble shovel was elevated to heroic status, with the populace wielding it like a chilled Excalibur.

Authorities, ever the bearers of frosty wisdom, issued declarations that sprinted from “stay indoors” melodrama to heroic tales of Cold War proportions. The town collectively transformed into a brigade of hasty indoor hibernators, waiting out the storm within their snowy fortresses.

DeKalb’s Icy Mythology: A Saga for the Ages

For those of you cradling steaming mugs and harboring vivid memories of frostbitten school drills, take solace in the unique charm of DeKalb’s winter yesteryears. Other storms may get the glory, but none can match the idiosyncratic spirit of the 1987 juggernaut. Meteorologists have penned many a flowery equation on its severity, as if capturing the frostbitten grudge Mother Nature held against good ol’ DeKalb.

The Icy Takeaways

We may marvel at technology’s prowess in forecasting Frosty’s grumpy arrival, but two cardinal lessons emerged from this frozen fiasco: the unparalleled potency of snowblowers, and the timeless value of lending a mitten-covered hand. Despite all our gizmos and gadgets, it’s our good old-fashioned neighborly ear-flap hats that thaw our shivering souls.

Musings on a Frosty Feat

Reflecting through the frosted glass of time, the Blizzard of 1987 stands as a DeKalbian badge of gritty survival. Each snowflake was not just an act of mischievous precipitation, but a tiny herald of tales spun through tea-time gossip and snowman contests. Every road cleared and every roof exorcised of its snowy burden leaves behind a tale of DeKalb’s ballet with winter’s gloriously overblown theatrics.

So, if you ever spot a DeKalbian with a closet bursting with shovels like treasures to withstand another ice onslaught, remember: they weathered the great snowpocalypse of ‘87. And their chattering teeth and tales of triumph serve as local lore, whispering through wintery winds.