Thursday, December 18, 2003

A Perverse Winter Pleasure

Yesterday I had to fire up the old shovel.  First time this season.  Although we had received accumulating snowfall prior to this, mother nature had done my work for me.  But yesterday, with temperatures cold enough for the snow to stick around, I did some shoveling.  Twice as a matter of fact.  And I enjoyed every minute of it.

I can’t say I’ve always had this attitude.  At the age of six, when my Dad first placed a shovel in my hands and said “I want to be able to see the curbs,” I didn’t think much of shoveling snow.  Especially after, I thought, I had completed shoveling the driveway and gotten my keister back in the house.  Invariably, my Dad would poke his head round the basement stairs and say, “I can’t see the curb.” So back outside I’d go and toil some more.  This went on until my folks changed the locks on the doors as a way of letting me know that my shenanigans weren’t going to be tolerated any longer in their home.

After, I like to say, moved out, on my own, I didn’t bother much with shoveling.  I’d just run whatever winter beater vehicle I was driving through any snow that had accumulated.  If the snow was especially deep, I’d have to make a couple of passes in order to pack it down to a navigable surface.  By the end of winter, the drive would be packed like a glacier, and you wouldn’t see the curbs til late Spring.

Later, after joining the Navy, I didn’t have to do much shoveling for five years.  Being stationed in Hawaii had some distinct advantages, even beyond not having to shovel snow.  But after I got out and returned to Michigan, shoveling needed to be done once again.  The funny thing was, I ended up shoveling like my Dad always wanted me to when I was a kid.  I always wanted to see the curb.

Now, twenty plus years after getting out of the service, shoveling every winter, I take a perverse pleasure in wielding my shovel.  The scrape of the blade on cement, the piles of snow growing each time I shovel and the cold air making my nose run.  It’s quite satisfying.

People always ask me why I don’t get a snowblower.  I guess it’s because I can’t stand the sound of them, or, because I just enjoy shoveling.  It’s kind of mindless work, but with verifiable results.  Besides, a snowblower just doesn’t clean the snow from the curb real well, and the exhaust doesn’t go well with a cigar.

Posted by John Venlet on 12/18 at 04:34 PM
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