Some time in the winter of 1964-65
I don't remember how deep the snow was, but I do remember that we had THREE days off from school.
We were living in what was then a far western suburb of Minneapolis, with nothing but countryside beyond us. A whole lot of snow--feet rather than inches-- fell, and like all good Minnesota children of that era, we turned on WCCO radio to hear the school closings. When they mentioned our town, we cheered and had a great day.
The next morning, our street still hadn't been plowed, and WCCO listed our district as closed for the second day...and the third. Then came the weekend.
In church on Sunday, we heard the reason. Our town officials had foolishly parked the municipal snowplows out in various open fields and they had gotten buried. It took a long time to figure out which huge drifts hid actual snowplows and which were just...huge drifts.
That was also the year of heavy flooding along the Minnesota and Mississippi rivers and the seven tornadoes that hit the Twin Cities in one night in May. Several buildings were destroyed within a couple of miles of us, and we experienced golf ball sized hail.