I love walking on snowy days. Maybe because they’re more rare, or because they instantly take me back to childhood. It’s a bit uncomfortable when the frigid winds make your face freeze. I feel like a kid when the drips from my nose collect in my scarf, or get wiped on my glove. At some point as a kid building that snowman or sledding, or now as an adult walking, you eventually realize you don’t feel your toes. But because I’m fortunate to have a warm home, I also get to experience that special tingle after coming in from the cold, where you can feel the blood returning to your toes and cheeks. Maybe even make some hot chocolate or tea.
The first snow of this season was a few inches and I was lazing about, eager to let the just-above-freezing temperature and sunshine clear the sidewalks without me. My good friend and neighbor Mark Farrell and I happened to text and he mentioned he’d just come in from doing his sidewalk and that of several houses. As he rightly said, if he got to it before it melted, then it wouldn’t be an icy mess when it refroze that night. He unintentionally shamed me by example.
So I booted up and attended to mine, and a few houses nearby. As I was shoveling I thought about my mailman, Chris. He’s a very earnest, hard-working fellow that I’ve had the pleasure to get to know through brief conversations the last five years. I find it sad and telling that people don’t even get to know their postal worker who’s literally at their doorstep daily. Often it seems the same folks will wail and rail on social media about all types of social ills in our society. Anyone who criticizes mail delivery people these days doesn’t appreciate how much is expected of them! So it felt good that I contributed to clearing a safe path for him and made a tiny portion of his long route a bit easier.
My neighbor across the street, Joyce, is a widow with a few years on me, so I try to help out here and there. I felt guilty as her sidewalk and half the walk to her front door had been shoveled by her next door neighbor, but consoled myself by finishing the job. I wondered why her next door neighbor Wayne had done the sidewalks but quit halfway. Then I considered he works full time, is admittedly not in great shape physically (so was glad he didn’t overdue it) and atop all else for almost twenty years has been the sole care-giver/guardian of a special needs daughter. I don’t know this from FB, or Twit-agram, or Nextdoor, I know this because we’ve engaged in genuine conversations standing on the sidewalk.
Not surprisingly, while clearing the short walk for Joyce, being the gracious soul that she is, she donned a coat and came out to thank me. Cold weather tends to keep us all indoors more, so we caught up. We talked about the tragic passing of another young neighbor last month, and shared how due to the weather and holidays neither of us had gotten to meet the couple that’d moved in on the other side of her house about a month ago. Besides the chance to visit with her, we got to share in a hug. Despite VR headsets, FaceTime, cute emojis, and all the avatars and identity-stealing caricatures, something that’s still not available via Wi-Fi.
Sure enough, ice was everywhere the next few days as it stayed cold. Getting a bit of cabin fever, I took a walk on our Greenway along the river a few times. There’s an elegant beauty to the bare trees, highlighted all the more by a white blanket, especially in the evenings. The lack of foliage allows views hidden most of the year. I was momentarily frustrated by what appeared to be piles of garbage in the woods in an area I passed. As I got closer it was sobering to notice it was an “encampment” — a makeshift shelter — and that someone had been staying there. A cold wind hit me, and I shuddered to imagine they might still be making a go of it. Like all other big issues (public education, healthcare, social injustices) there are few simple, quick solutions to changing the paradigm.
I was getting chilled and eager to get indoors when I happened upon another friend walking, Dian Tapscott, as I neared my home. It was wonderful to see her. I was surprised to realize that our paths haven’t crossed in a few years. Her always positive attitude and warm personality made me forget the cold for almost half an hour! Our mutual friend Mark came up in our chat, so I dropped him a note later that evening saying his ears should have been burning because I saw his old friend Dian. He revealed to me that years ago during Christmas when his kids were young, her husband Tom walked the neighborhood dressed as Santa passing out gifts and Dian carried a lamp to light their way!
Later that night we had another round of light snow, and this AM my friend Mark and I walked to our local coffee spot and enjoyed our always hearty convo over lattes and bagels, sharing our gripes and joys of the week, and figuring out how to save the world. He was eager to get his shovel out as we walked home; once again I was of the mind it would melt. But when I reached my house, my sidewalk and half the block had already been done by Heath, an industrious young neighbor three doors down, who like Mark, simply does it on his own initiative.
Unintentionally chastened again, I saw he hadn’t yet gotten to the opposite side of the street. I grabbed my shovel and rushed over to get Joyce’s walk cleared. It was light work, more pushing than shoveling, so I also did the sidewalks along that side. Sure enough, the new neighbor next to Joyce appeared with his shovel. He thanked me and I welcomed him to the hood. We had a pleasant introductory chat, and so it goes, when I get beyond screen world…
Before I had finished, Joyce came out and again thanked me. Then she pulled me close and said, “I have to tell you something. The other day the snow was piled up along the sidewalks from the snowplow, and I was figuring out where to step over it to get into my car just as the city recycle truck came by. As they passed, a young man saw me, hopped off the truck, and came up. [Her recycle is collected in her back alley, not the front.] He held out his hand and motioned me to step over the mound and walked me to my car door! It was so unexpected! It really made my day, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since! It was so nice I just wanted to share it.”
Sure, the sun might have melted the light snow on our walks by this evening, but that’s not entirely why people like my neighbors Heath or Mark or Wayne are out there doing it. It’s one of those unspoken, neighborly trade-offs that we share in. Like the young city worker who stepped beyond his job description, for a minute slowed down what for his crew must have been an already complicated work day collecting refuse in the cold on icy streets, this is the stuff that transcends sound bites and Twittering and doesn’t make the news. Yet to me, this very real, everyday generosity is the communal glue that binds us, indeed holds our society together, and gives meaning to us on this shared journey of being alive.
The first snow of this season was a few inches and I was lazing about, eager to let the just-above-freezing temperature and sunshine clear the sidewalks without me. My good friend and neighbor Mark Farrell and I happened to text and he mentioned he’d just come in from doing his sidewalk and that of several houses. As he rightly said, if he got to it before it melted, then it wouldn’t be an icy mess when it refroze that night. He unintentionally shamed me by example.
So I booted up and attended to mine, and a few houses nearby. As I was shoveling I thought about my mailman, Chris. He’s a very earnest, hard-working fellow that I’ve had the pleasure to get to know through brief conversations the last five years. I find it sad and telling that people don’t even get to know their postal worker who’s literally at their doorstep daily. Often it seems the same folks will wail and rail on social media about all types of social ills in our society. Anyone who criticizes mail delivery people these days doesn’t appreciate how much is expected of them! So it felt good that I contributed to clearing a safe path for him and made a tiny portion of his long route a bit easier.
My neighbor across the street, Joyce, is a widow with a few years on me, so I try to help out here and there. I felt guilty as her sidewalk and half the walk to her front door had been shoveled by her next door neighbor, but consoled myself by finishing the job. I wondered why her next door neighbor Wayne had done the sidewalks but quit halfway. Then I considered he works full time, is admittedly not in great shape physically (so was glad he didn’t overdue it) and atop all else for almost twenty years has been the sole care-giver/guardian of a special needs daughter. I don’t know this from FB, or Twit-agram, or Nextdoor, I know this because we’ve engaged in genuine conversations standing on the sidewalk.
Not surprisingly, while clearing the short walk for Joyce, being the gracious soul that she is, she donned a coat and came out to thank me. Cold weather tends to keep us all indoors more, so we caught up. We talked about the tragic passing of another young neighbor last month, and shared how due to the weather and holidays neither of us had gotten to meet the couple that’d moved in on the other side of her house about a month ago. Besides the chance to visit with her, we got to share in a hug. Despite VR headsets, FaceTime, cute emojis, and all the avatars and identity-stealing caricatures, something that’s still not available via Wi-Fi.
Sure enough, ice was everywhere the next few days as it stayed cold. Getting a bit of cabin fever, I took a walk on our Greenway along the river a few times. There’s an elegant beauty to the bare trees, highlighted all the more by a white blanket, especially in the evenings. The lack of foliage allows views hidden most of the year. I was momentarily frustrated by what appeared to be piles of garbage in the woods in an area I passed. As I got closer it was sobering to notice it was an “encampment” — a makeshift shelter — and that someone had been staying there. A cold wind hit me, and I shuddered to imagine they might still be making a go of it. Like all other big issues (public education, healthcare, social injustices) there are few simple, quick solutions to changing the paradigm.
I was getting chilled and eager to get indoors when I happened upon another friend walking, Dian Tapscott, as I neared my home. It was wonderful to see her. I was surprised to realize that our paths haven’t crossed in a few years. Her always positive attitude and warm personality made me forget the cold for almost half an hour! Our mutual friend Mark came up in our chat, so I dropped him a note later that evening saying his ears should have been burning because I saw his old friend Dian. He revealed to me that years ago during Christmas when his kids were young, her husband Tom walked the neighborhood dressed as Santa passing out gifts and Dian carried a lamp to light their way!
Later that night we had another round of light snow, and this AM my friend Mark and I walked to our local coffee spot and enjoyed our always hearty convo over lattes and bagels, sharing our gripes and joys of the week, and figuring out how to save the world. He was eager to get his shovel out as we walked home; once again I was of the mind it would melt. But when I reached my house, my sidewalk and half the block had already been done by Heath, an industrious young neighbor three doors down, who like Mark, simply does it on his own initiative.
Unintentionally chastened again, I saw he hadn’t yet gotten to the opposite side of the street. I grabbed my shovel and rushed over to get Joyce’s walk cleared. It was light work, more pushing than shoveling, so I also did the sidewalks along that side. Sure enough, the new neighbor next to Joyce appeared with his shovel. He thanked me and I welcomed him to the hood. We had a pleasant introductory chat, and so it goes, when I get beyond screen world…
Before I had finished, Joyce came out and again thanked me. Then she pulled me close and said, “I have to tell you something. The other day the snow was piled up along the sidewalks from the snowplow, and I was figuring out where to step over it to get into my car just as the city recycle truck came by. As they passed, a young man saw me, hopped off the truck, and came up. [Her recycle is collected in her back alley, not the front.] He held out his hand and motioned me to step over the mound and walked me to my car door! It was so unexpected! It really made my day, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since! It was so nice I just wanted to share it.”
Sure, the sun might have melted the light snow on our walks by this evening, but that’s not entirely why people like my neighbors Heath or Mark or Wayne are out there doing it. It’s one of those unspoken, neighborly trade-offs that we share in. Like the young city worker who stepped beyond his job description, for a minute slowed down what for his crew must have been an already complicated work day collecting refuse in the cold on icy streets, this is the stuff that transcends sound bites and Twittering and doesn’t make the news. Yet to me, this very real, everyday generosity is the communal glue that binds us, indeed holds our society together, and gives meaning to us on this shared journey of being alive.
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