Monday, December 22, 2008

Ramble from phair

I love these rambles. Here's a spiffy one from the one and only phair.
Paying it forward, backward, starboard, and onward

The meteorologists and public safety people had us quaking is our collective snow shoes on Friday. A storm was moving into position to wallop the Commonwealth during the evening rush hour. They started calling it a Nor'easter on Wednesday. Even the hardiest among us good New England stock take care to prepare well when that kind of weather is on the way. These storms are quite simply deadly. It is not just surviving the initial wind, frozen precipitation, and sometimes lightning. Dealing with the aftermath of heavy wet snow, downed power lines, and freezing temperatures can be a killer.

But, we knew this one was coming. For the first time in a very long time, people planned ahead. Before the first snow fell, schools closed, shops locked their doors, workers hurried home, plows were mobilized, and police pointed, guided, and shouted us all the way to safety. And…we got hammered for more than 24 hours now. The heavy stuff ended early Saturday morning but the snow flurries have continued to swirl down from a low hanging gray sky. The worst is over until tonight when round two starts it all up again.

I live two houses up a steep hill. My driveway is four cars long. The house has a wrap around porch and a half dozen stairs. I do not own a snow blower. Stupid. What can I say, I'm afraid I'll lose a hand. Usually, I shovel a corner of the porch and the stairs, ski down to my car on my butt, grab the rock salt out of the back and toss it into the wind. Crappy plan. The only bright spot is the 4 wheel drive Jeep sitting at the edge of the driveway as close to the street but out of plow range as possible.

You can imagine the grimace on my face as I watched Dakota's legs disappear in the snow when I let her out back Saturday morning. I stood there in the single digit wind a few moments longer after she was finished 'freshing up' trying to decide if it really was a foot of snow or, perhaps, drifts. I sent the dog back down to make snow angels and determined the drifts were, in fact, deeper. Crap.

Knowing the snow would not melt or shovel itself, I started looking for dungarees and a sweatshirt while Dakota and the cats ate breakfast. I decided to give us all a break and turn the heat up to 68 degrees. My morning was suddenly interrupted with a knock at my front door. Nobody knocks on my door, especially in the winter. Then the knock came again.

"Want me to shovel you out?" Asked the young man wearing a bulky coat and ski-like mask which revealed only his cheekbones and happy blue eyes.

"That'd be great. How much?" I babbled gratefully.

His limited expression changed as the joy left his eyes.

He flatly stated, "You don't remember me."

He was wrong. The very second his expression soured, I recognized him. He was the grumpy, smart aleck teen who shoveled my driveway after a 3 foot snowstorm in 2005. He showed up with a few friends that night trying to wrangle enough money half assed shoveling for some purpose better left unmentioned.

He didn't even have gloves that night. My only pair was soaked through. I gave him a pair of brand new tube socks to keep on his angry red, frozen fingers. I think, I made them coco or gave them bottled water but I somehow got around to asking him about school. He said he passed his MCAS to graduate but had a couple of classes to finish. He was still trying more than two years after his peers finished 12th grade. His friends laughed at him but I ignored them. I told him not to stop trying. Get the 'God damn' degree and make a better life for himself.

All these years, I thought he didn't listen to me because I was pretty sure I saw his name a few times in the town paper's police logs. And because, he never had come back to offer to shovel.

"I do remember you. How'd you do getting your diploma?"

"I got my GED last spring," He told me with more than a hint of pride. "You were really generous to me the last time. Thank you."

I knew he didn't mean about the money for shoveling. "I'll give you fifty for the stairs and in front of the truck."

"Thirty would be good enough," he replied.

"I know."

By the way his eyes scrunched up I could tell he was smiling, "I'll give you my phone number and you call me if you ever need anything...like shoveling."

I shook his hand before he trotted down the stairs like he did the last time only this time he was working for himself.

It really is a season a miracles.

phair


The last ramble from phair that I read to my daughter she was jealous of snow. We now have over 10 inches on the ground. I loved this ramble, but I think I'll read this one to her later in the year. Phair, once again thank you and enjoy your snow!

To the rest of you, be safe, be well and enjoy!

Elisa

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