Dwellie Shanks, 98, a retired painter, pooh-poohed the whole storm thing. "There's always something," he said. His daughter, Clara Shanks, 62, who lives in College Park, was staying for the weekend to help him because his aide could not make it. (Tara Bahrampour/The Washington Post)

In all her 96 years, Evlyn Bradley couldn’t remember a storm causing so much worry. She had figured she’d be fine on her own for the weekend, though the aide who usually comes to care for her wouldn’t be able to make it.

But this storm, everyone told her, was different.

“I was just talking to my cousin; she wants me to leave and come to their house,” the retired schoolteacher said, nestled in front of her television in a bright red fleece robe late Friday morning. “They want to send a car for me, but I want to stay here. I’m just more comfortable at home.”

Crystal Randolph, assistant manager coordinator for Seabury Resource for Aging’s home-delivered meals, shook her head. She had just delivered two meals to Bradley, but there was more at stake than just food.

“I don’t think you should be here by yourself,” Randolph said. What if the power went out? What if there was no heat? “If nobody can get to you then nobody can know if anything is wrong.”

Bradley was one of 407 District customers who received their Saturday meal deliveries on Friday, with 7 drivers starting an hour early to get done before the snow began to fall. Seabury customers, who are 60 and older and often low-income, usually receive meals four days a week. With Friday’s delivery, and five additional emergency meals they are given in advance, they would be set for a few days even if roads were blocked.

The nonprofit, which also provides affordable housing, transportation, and other services to over 15,000 older adults and family caregivers around the metropolitan area, is funded in part by the District of Columbia through its Office on Aging. But on Friday and Saturday, its transportation service to bring people to medical appointments, including kidney dialysis and cancer treatments, was suspended.

“This is the first time in recent memory that the service has been closed, and this is because of the dire conditions predicted,” said Deborah Royster, chief executive officer. “The safety of our customers is paramount.” She said service would be resumed as soon as the streets were safe.

Driving around Ward 4, where hardly any vehicles were out other than a salt truck, Randolph was not only delivering meals. She also offered an extra eye, to see that people were okay, an extra ear to hear if anything was wrong.

Dwellie Shanks, 98, a retired painter, pooh-poohed the whole storm thing. “There’s always something,” he said, wrapped in a blanket next to the radiator as he watched an old black-and-white movie in the house he’s lived in 60 years. “I’ve seen just about everything. I’m trying to get a 5-cent nap. At 100 years old you don’t pay nothing no mind.”

He didn’t need to, because his daughter, Clara Shanks, 62, who lives in College Park, was staying for the weekend. “He has home health aides, but they’re not going to be able to make it,” she explained. “I just hope we don’t lose power.”

Barbara Rowe was less sanguine. At 83, she has a raft of illnesses that make it hard for her to get out of her chair, let alone down the stairs, and she was not sure her aide would be able to get there. If she couldn’t, Rowe said, “There’s nothing I can do. Just wait. Because I can’t walk.”

She had never been in this situation before, “because it hasn’t snowed like this.” Sitting in her upstairs bedroom with an oxygen tube in her nose, she had counted her medications. She had enough to last five or six days. The aide Friday aide was leaving early to make it home before the storm. “Before she leaves, I’ll get her to bring me something up here.”

Returning to the central office in the early afternoon, Randolph called Ward 4 to report on Rowe’s situation. Normally, they would get in touch with the aides’ agency and see what was going on. In all her seven years on the job, Randolph had never known them to close because of the weather. But today was different.

“They were gone by the time I got back,” Randolph said. Now, Rowe would have to wait until Monday, possibly with no aide to help her over the weekend.

Evlyn Bradley, however, wouldn’t be alone. “I called her and she called me back and to tell me she was going to her cousins’,” Randolph said. “They were on their way to pick her up.”

Outside, the snow began to fall lightly.