The Snowcrete Jungle

A deep-freeze and a minor moral dilemma block out Minneapolis. For an hour here and there.

Our street in DC, six days after the storm. (Photo: John D. Martin)

We drove away from our house Friday for the first time in six days. And then we painstakingly made our way through residential streets narrowed by “snowcrete” right back to where we started. We had belatedly realized that we could return from our first supermarket foray in a week and find nowhere to park anywhere near our house.

We mostly trusted our neighbors, but what if outsiders — parents bringing their kids to sled down the hill at the end of the block, or others from beyond our immediate vicinity — parked in our spot?

The Washington Post put this in perspective:

Falling atop 4 to 7 inches of snow, the frozen concoction consolidated to a depth of 6 to 9 inches. But this was no ordinary 6 to 9 inches. The water packed inside was comparable to the contents of a 20-inch blizzard. And with nighttime temperatures forecast to plunge into the single digits for days, the mass will remain frozen solid well into the week. There is no telling when this glacial-like offering will finally melt.

Freeing the car had taken five days of work, by us (okay, mostly my spouse) and eventually, bowing to the inevitable, by three people we hired to shatter, smash or hammer at the rock-hard white stuff (by then piled high by city plows). We had no legal right to reserve our spot, but we decided we had a moral right. For at least an hour or two.

So our little black plastic chair and a little white plastic table took their place among the assortment of plastic stuff displayed by others who had made the same decision. A neighbor across the street, still trying to dig out, endorsed our choice. Which made me feel better.

The excursion did, too. I used our last egg on Monday and was teleported right back to the 2024 campaign and all the fuss about “eggs!” I missed them this past week far more than I anticipated.

It was a week that demanded comfort food, like scrambled eggs. Not because of Snowmageddon 2.0 or single-digit temperatures for days on end (it was 8 degrees when I woke up this morning and only 19 by late morning). The forecast suggests it will be above freezing — 34 degrees! — on Tuesday, only three days from now. Granted, it is then expected to dip right back below freezing for nearly a week.

None of this is nothing. Still, in truth, it was a relief to be worrying about snow, logistics, and running low on staples. Time and patience will take care of these problems.

We’ll need more than that to overcome the larger horror of what’s happening to our country, epitomized by Alex Pretti’s shocking death at the hands of federal immigration agents in Minneapolis — a tragedy that played out as more than 160 million Americans awaited Saturday night’s storm.

It will take awareness, persistence, communication, persuasion, resolve, and action to finally end this nightmare. And time, and patience, of course.

One thing I will say about 2026 so far: It’s kept me writing. Here are a few pieces since the last time I sent around this newsletter.

A Different Kind of Trump: Caring for a son with severe disabilities has given Fred Trump III a clear-eyed view of the politics of health care. My talk with Fred and his wife, Lisa, about the tough road to progress. Even if a politician shares your priorities and even if your uncle is president.

An Opportunist in Dove’s Clothing: Trump’s favorite role is commander of his personal military. We should have known from Trump’s first 100 days of 2017 that international peace, love and understanding are not his thing.

Embracing Impeachment: The case against Trump and his cabinet keeps growing—and the argument for waiting is no longer convincing. My case for what Democrats should do right now, starting with Noem, RFK, Hegseth and Bondi.

Bonus if you’re into impeachment: My follow-up Q-and-A with The Editorial Board’s John Stoehr about why I changed my mind and urged Democrats to embrace impeachment. “The breaking point for me was the ICE killing of Renee Good, and the pile-up of impeachment articles filed against Trump and members of his cabinet.”

And last but possibly most important:

How I Failed Escapism 101: ‘The Diplomat’ and ‘The Black Wolf’ are too close to reality for comfort. A prime minister who blurts out and acts out just like an actual head of state we may know? And how about annexing Canada? Never fear, there are plenty of compelling procedurals to read and watch — a Welsh detective, a Northumbria detective, a 1960s detective in North East England.

They all have compelling scenery, history, character and plots. That last one should probably have a trigger warning, though. It’s brutal about 1960s prejudices, corruption, and conflicts. Sound familiar? Some in America are desperate to revive that era. They can try, but here’s my 95% bet: They’ll fail.