No Doppler radar. No weather alerts on your phone. No school closing announcements at 5 AM. Just Dad shuffling to the kitchen window in his bathrobe. Peering through the frost like some sort of meteorologist. Taking a slow sip of Folgers. Delivering the most accurate forecast you'd get all day. 'Yep. It's coming down out there.' Then Mom would turn on the radio. We'd wait for our school district to get called. Sitting by that crackling AM radio like it held the secrets of the universe. Sometimes