Home Commentary Rhode Islanders rode the wave of the blizzard together

Rhode Islanders rode the wave of the blizzard together

By

Karl Wadensten

-

02/25/2026

wadensten0216 — Karl Wadensten

When Winter Storm Hernando slammed Rhode Island in February 2026, it didn’t just snow – it buried us. Nearly 38 inches fell in parts of the state; the largest single-storm snowfall ever recorded here, surpassing even the Blizzard of ’78. Roads disappeared, wind turned powder into concrete and drifts stacked up like the summer sets at Matunuck Beach.

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When Winter Storm Hernando slammed Rhode Island in February 2026, it didn’t just snow – it buried us. Nearly 38 inches fell in parts of the state; the largest single-storm snowfall ever recorded here, surpassing even the Blizzard of ’78. Roads disappeared, wind turned powder into concrete and drifts stacked up like the summer sets at Matunuck Beach. This time only the waves were white, froze and unforgiving. For two days, Rhode Island stood still, but Rhode Islanders didn’t. When the waves rise, you paddle out My boys and I are surfers. When the horizon darkens and the sets build, you don’t stand on shore debating it. Instead, you paddle out, read the break commit and you watch each other’s backs. That’s what Hernando felt like. Let me be clear we’re not the heroes. The guy who plows our road all winter long is. He’s the one up at 2 a.m. every storm. However, this time, even he got overwhelmed. Trucks got stuck. One broke down. The drifts were too much and physics won. So, we fired up the green tractor. My boys brought their diesel rigs to dig out the plow trucks and get him back moving. Because when someone wipes out in heavy surf, you don’t point. You circle back. The mailbox that meant more than it looked Down the road, a neighbor recovering from major foot surgery was boxed in. Drifts taller than the porch rail, his wife and son were out there grinding, exhausted. They didn’t ask for much, just help clearing the mailbox. That mailbox wasn’t small. It was their connection to the outside world: medicine, bills and news. But it was something else too. When a mailbox is buried, it’s not just inconvenient for the homeowner. It slows down the mail carrier. It forces him to step into unsafe footing, stretch across snowbanks, lose time on a route that’s already tight, adding frustration to a job that’s already hard enough in weather like that. He’s just trying to get his job done, like the rest of us. Clearing that mailbox wasn’t just neighborly; it was respect. Respect for the person recovering inside, respect for the carrier walking the route and respect for the system that keeps all of us connected. We cleared it. Later she texted, “Thanks for the help!” Another message came in: “You’ve raised great sons. They wouldn’t take a dime.” And another: “Time is valuable. We appreciate it. Job well done.” Those words are fuel. They’re heat in cold weather. They keep you moving when your hands are numb and your back is tight. It wasn’t just our road It was on the news everywhere. Neighbors digging out fire trucks so emergency crews could respond, residents pushing city plow trucks free and contractors stuck and strangers grabbing shovels to help. One man in the city with nothing but a shovel, going house to house, breaking through snow walls so elderly residents could open their doors. No politics, no speeches, just instinct. What happened in our neighborhood was happening on every corner of Rhode Island. Inside the break While snow waves rolled outside, another test was happening inside homes across the state. At VIBCO Inc., 360,000 customers count on us from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. Manufacturing doesn’t shut down because it’s snowing. If their lines stop, the cost is immediate. In those two days we faced every disruption imaginable: delayed freight, vendor slowdowns, power flickers and employees snowed in. But we didn’t miss a beat. Our team rotated like a hockey line change. Some shoveled in shifts and logged back on. Others answered phones and emails while drifts climbed their driveways. We went in and out of the lines, holding each other up. Calm, relentless and focused. Like surfers sharing a lineup, like teammates protecting the goal and professionals who understand the mission. No excuses, just service. Rhode Island, Number One Storms don’t care about party lines, and they don’t care about opinions. They reveal character. And what Hernando revealed was this: Rhode Island is small, but its heart is enormous. People dug out fire trucks. People dug out plow trucks. People dug out strangers. People cleared mailboxes. People checked on their neighbors. People shared time. Years ago, I said it out loud “Rhode Island, number one.” Not because we’re the biggest. Because when the waves rise, we paddle out. Karl Wadensten is a member of the R.I. Commerce Corp. board and president of VIBCO Inc., a manufacturing company based in Richmond. He has spent more than 25 years helping build and retain jobs in Rhode Island’s small and midsized business sector. He also teaches a BUS 410 level Lean Six Sigma Green Belt course at the University of Rhode Island.