The snow storm whooshes up the street blowing hard and fast. Taking a right turn at my house, it joins the mini-storm blowing out of my snowblower and blasts everything back into my face with a splat. Yuck!
But I am undeterred. I am trailing in the fierce competition that has arisen during this year of pandemic and isolation. The stakes could not be higher. And I will not go home without the trophy.
“Hah! I am willing to win at any cost.” I shake my fist at the snow gods.
Let me explain.
Old men have always taken care of my neighborhood. I was not around during the time they were young husbands and fathers, but as neighborhood caretakers, they were the very best. I used to turn to Erv — retired for many years and who lived across the street — for every need or question I had about our first house from repairing the clothes dryer to sheet rocking the wall. He would patiently explain what I needed to do and would frequently assist in the work. A real lifesaver.
When I moved to our present home 30 years ago, Jim, an old retired warehouse man living two doors down, stepped in as my “old man in the neighborhood.” How to lay a brick, change the insides of a toilet, replace a car battery — Jim knew the answer and showed me how. Patiently and with kindness.
Erv and Jim passed on long ago. True losses. Irreplaceable men in my life.
But now it’s my turn to be the old man in the neighborhood.
The trouble is, I’m a total goof. Really. If you have any questions about plumbing or electricity or drywalls or cars or gardening or pretty much anything — I am not your guy. Sorry.
But I am good for one thing — I can pull a heavy load.
You can harness me up and I’ll mow your lawn or shovel your snow or drag tree branches to the curb. I can loosen the old lug nuts on your tires or push your car out of the snow or shovel a hole.
I have zero finesse, but I can plod with the best draft horse.
That’s me.
So, during this time of pandemic and frequent snow storms, I have taken to cleaning the sidewalks of my neighbors. Why not? It is a plodding job right up my alley. And I have nothing but time and a great snowblower. Most importantly, it buys me “old guy taking care of the neighborhood” points. Right?
But here’s the problem. My friend, an Irish-American cop who lives down the street, is beating me to the punch. He’s young. He’s athletic. He’s handsome. He gets up before me and snowplows the block. Including my sidewalk. Especially my sidewalk. Even MY sidewalk.
The gall. I have one job as the old man on the block. The only job I’m qualified for. And now this interloper is interfering???!
So I have taken to getting up earlier. I start blowing snow before the storm stops. I blow snow in the dark. I blow snow even when there is no snow to blow.
Bring it on, Irish cop!
But I’m wondering if this is the right attitude? Is it really loving and kind to see the Irish cop as the enemy? Haven’t we as a country voted against such mean-spiritedness? Perhaps I am approaching this all wrong?
So today I started the day with a meditation called the Loving Kindness Meditation. Oddly enough, the meditation is all about being loving and kind. It is a recognized meditative practice and is used the world over. And I decided to do it.
While I am doing it, I hear a snowblower. It’s the Irish cop. He’s plowing snow. Up and down the block. That son-of-a-buck beat me to the punch. He’s taking away my only job while I’m sitting cross-legged, counting my breath, and thinking how much I love my damn neighbors.
Which is why I’m out here. Angry and determined. Racing down the block with my snowblower.
I’ll show him loving kindness. Take that . . .
By the way, I’m thinking the Dalai Lama’s job is safe.
Joe
You should snow blow side by side with the young man, and then raise a glass of Irish whiskey! Hell, I’ll join you and we can do the whole street!
Would you like my home address?
I can SEE you!
The joy of competition!
I’d say you could come and snow blow our driveway and paths, but we already have a good neighbor (not an old guy, yet) that bobcats the heck out of it. Plus it would be a bit out of your way.
I think you have this part down: Patiently and with kindness.
That loving kindness crap is so darned hard!!! And snow, beautiful, lovely snow really underlines the difficulty. When I lived in Des Moines I had a next door neighbor who had a driveway that was not half as large as mine. He would shovel his drive then start on mine – helping the poor, older, neighbor lady who was stuck with all the chores.I hated getting up in the morning to find he had already finished his drive and was halfway up mine. I had a constant struggle with having my ego bruised because I thought he thought I needed help and being grateful that he, in fact, did help. He refused to get a snowblower because he hated the noise. Now, I miss those quiet mornings working along side him, pausing to wipe sweat from our brows, lean on our shovel handles in the quiet, and complain about our neighbor across the street who did have a snowblower and never, not even once, offered to blow our driveways.