NOVEMBER 17, 2022 – Contrary to conventional . . . wisdom . . . aging doesn’t necessarily make a person wiser, unless wisdom means obsession with health, distress over a disturbances of the peace (despite loss of hearing), a greater tendency to vote “conservative,” and general ossification of cognitive processes. Another indicium of aging—without added wisdom—is infatuation with life’s minor pleasures.
When I now face a mirror and see my age, I’m also forced to acknowledge my obsession with health and my strong dislike of neighborhood leaf blowers. So far, thank goodness, my mind remains intact and reasonably alert, and I’m still perfectly capable of self-deception. But the main evidence that I’m aging is the immense pleasure I derive from the simple pleasure of shoveling snow off a smooth slab of concrete.
A few weeks ago, our good neighbor, Bill Moser, a long-time concrete contractor, installed a new driveway for us. It runs 50 feet to the alley from our tucked-under garage. A magnificent display of craftsmanship, the driveway is superbly troweled, with perfect pitch for drainage, a mid-line expansion strip, nice intermediate scoring, and fantastic “alley appeal.”
Last Sunday when I was raking, I saw Bill raking in the front of his home—across the street and one door down. For over 35 years, he’s set the standard for curb appeal on our block. I sauntered over to have a word.
“Say Bill,” I said on the approach. He turned around and greeted me. “Again,” I said, “I hafta tell you how much I appreciate the fine work you did on our driveway.”
He smiled and allowed a light chuckle. Bill’s a modest guy and laconic too, but once you get him to say something, you know the lights are definitely on and shining brightly. On this occasion, though, as usual, he let me do all the talking.
“You know, Bill, that driveway gives me so much pleasure, if the weather were going to stay mild, I’d park myself in a folding chair out in our alley and sit there all day admiring your work.” He laughed a little. His pause from raking seemed to give me license to continue my expression of gratitude. “But of far greater pleasure,” I said, “will be my chance to shovel. I hear some snow is in the forecast, and I can’t wait. Even though we have a snowblower, I’m gonna get out there with a shovel, and I’m gonna move it around as if I’m a nice new pick-up truck and the shovel is a nice new Boss blade. It’ll gimme the greatest pleasure—pushing that blade from the garage to the alley without interruption, without the shovel catching an ugly crack or an uneven seam. The whole operation will be as smooth as silk.”
Bill leaned on his rake, cut me some slack and rewarded me with a light laugh. “Glad you like the work,” he said.
On Tuesday, I got to live the dream. I got to pretend I was that pickup pushing a Boss blade up and down our driveway. Wednesday, ditto territory. Today—double bingo, once before breakfast and again early this afternoon before loading up my skis and gear and heading out for . . . the Red Cabin, where an actual pick-up with a Boss blade are needed to clear the dirt drive.
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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson
2 Comments
I really like snow but not as much as you do! 🙂 Grace’s nephew works at Boss Snowplow in Iron Mountain, Michigan. Are you finding a good place to ski in Birkieland as we are there also?
I enjoy shoveling snow way more than mowing the lawn. My Dad once responded to that sentiment by saying “I never had to mow the lawn twice in one day”.
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