The snowplow truck was finally able to navigate into our little street today. Even at that, it continually got stuck, necessitating several quick tows by another truck (which fortuitously accompanied it). Thirty-six inches of snow in one swell foop can be challenging.
My driveway is finally clear after several days of shoveling. I can tell you, I’m not going to miss the extra exercise.
Still, there were some very good things that arose from all the snow related angst around my neighborhood. Here were some of them.
We helped each other.
At first, it was “every man for himself.” It had to be that way because there was just too much snow. We couldn’t keep up with our own let alone help someone else. But after our driveways were cleared (four days later), we were getting together to dig out cars and mailboxes. That kind of cooperative work is a lot more fun than doing it by one’s self. Much laughing ensued.
I met Isaac.
While I was helping someone else, I saw a guy I didn’t know. I reached out my hand and said, “I’m Dave.” He shook my hand and said he was Isaac. I immediately said, “Laughter!” (That’s what the name, Isaac, means—see Genesis 21). He smiled and said yes. Then I referred to all the snow he was shoveling and said, “I bet you’re not laughing much right now.” I just couldn’t help myself.
I laid some foundation stones.
As one might imagine, the neighborhood kids were out in full force taking advantage of the seven-foot high piles of snow. When things got manageable, there were a few snowball fights (many of which, I was a part). Being considerably larger than most of them, I had the opportunity to pick them up, throw them in snow banks, and pile the white stuff on them (as they laughed hysterically). You never know when, in a difficult moment of their lives, the funny old man down the street might be someone they can talk to.
I learned some things.
Our neighborhood is a little transient. Consequently, I don’t know (or have even met) everyone. One such young neighbor had some loud and choice words for the dudes who manned the plow trucks. She apparently thought they should have gotten to our neighborhood a lot sooner than they did. I felt sorry for them. The very immensity of the job just didn’t allow for greater efficiency than they displayed. I learned we’d have to treat her extra nicely in the future. (I’m laughing on the inside.)
Laughter truly is the best medicine.
I don’t relish the aches and pains of the past few days. There were moments when it was pure agony for this old body. In fact, I’m still not fully recovered. Yet, there were moments of laughter, bonding, and warmth that will continue to help me become what I should be—a resident of Florida (just kidding).