It has arrived: the moment of truth. The moment I put my boots on and wade out into a foot and a half of snow. The landlord has not plowed our parking lot, nor the driveway, so I’ll have to see what I can do. My wife and my editor have both sternly cautioned me, “Don’t kill yourself out there! People like you, they might keel over…” I chose not to ask for an elaboration of that.
What we need around here, and don’t have, is… teenagers! Half a dozen teens with snow shovels could clear that driveway as quick as boiled asparagus. I know because I was a teenager once. A bunch of us would get together to clear the snow off Tommy’s Pond so everybody in the neighborhood could ice-skate.
Nobody’s going to ask a bunch of 70-somethings to do that.
Really, people need to appreciate teenagers. If they haven’t been turned into chowderheads by public schooling, Hollywood, and social media, they’re bright and lively and a good influence on adults. Good company, too.
Well, dawdle no more. Get out there and shovel.