The morning after

Last night, we drank spiced rum and cola and played Scrabble while the wind whipped powdery swirls of snow off the church steeple next door. The usually noisy on a Saturday street below us was hushed, and you could actually hear the snow falling. For about 15 seconds, we paused, and it felt like Christmas. But, soon after that interlude, guests started to clear out as the snow continued to pile up. Alas, no one was up for a walk in this blizzard, either, and, although I had suggested it, I was pleased that I got no takers because I was unsteady (You know, because of the rum and stuff).

This morning, I awoke (involuntarily) to the sound of snow blowers clearing the sidewalk for the Sunday morning church rush. (Two churches on my block.) Oatmeal, coffee, triple layers and I am out the door to find some snowy Christmas cheer. The guy upstairs is ouit front shoveling the sidewalk. There are only two of us in this building, and he’s always been the one who clears the sidewalk. I assumed he got some benefit from this (a break on the rent, cash?) but it turns out he doesn’t. He’s either really nice or not too smart. He offers me the shovel. I say “No thanks.”

It is cold but the air smells unusually clean. I love to walk through Hamilton Park on snowy days, but that’s not possible right now, so I walk around my neighborhood, looking for people having fun. There are not that many. On Coles Street, a couple of little kids jump from their stoop onto the piles of snow made by their dad’s shoveling. Their peals of laughter are cut short as dad snarls, “Jesus Christ, I just shoveled that! Go inside!” Are there two worse words than those for a kid on a snow day?

On Monmouth, everyone’s digging out earnestly. “I gotta go to Jersey Gardens,” says a friend as he digs his car out of the driveway. His kids, too, are undoing his neat pile. “Dad, look what he did.” Dad shakes his head, then drops the shovel and runs over, picks up the smallest kid and tosses him at least three feet into the largest pile. The kid wails with laughter. The other one yells. “Me! Me! Me!”

On my way back home, I walk in the street. Some of my neighbors are still asleep or just not ready to get out and clear snow. This guy on Fifth Street is shoveling the snow from around his car right into the middle of the street. That kinda defeats the purpose of the snow plows, I think. “You know that makes it tougher on the cars to get through here,” I say. The guy looks at me for a second and shoots back, “Yeah, but it makes it easier for me to get my car out.” (Yeah, but it makes it harder for other cars getting through here, I repeat to myself.) I wave and walk on. “What’d he say?” asks the woman he’s with. “Nothing,” he replies, adding (loud enough so I can hear) “Some people should mind their business.”

You’re right about that, sir.