Not one to shirk responsibility unless I think I can get
away with it, I dutifully put down my stem-less Bordeaux wine glass and
schlepped down to the basement to put on my flannel-lined Wrangler jeans, brown
duck Carhartt jacket and weathered Caribou Sorrel boots. As someone that spent
a fair amount of time working in Fargo, ND and also as a ski bum living in the
California town of Mammoth Lakes, I have legitimate cold-weather gear that
would send shivers down the back of the average privileged Northeastern academic
North Face 600 wearing liberal. So, looking like an extra from Nebraska, I
ventured out the back door and fastidiously started to sweep down the light
snow that covered the back steps.
After clearing off the stairs I forged my way through the 4” snow
(it was still accumulating) and even managed to plow through some blowing
drifts that seemed to be at least 4 ½” inches to make my way to the garage.
Once safely inside, I picked the lightest of my four shovels (again…this is a
Midwest/California ski resort snowfall snobbery thing) and began carving a path
from the back door to the rear gate.
Once in the alley, I cleared out the
entire area around the garage (for my wife) and dug out about 20 yards of the
driveway (alley) so she could easily make it to the street the next morning.
Then, I meticulously shoveled the north side of sidewalk along Warren Street
and continued around the corner to clear the front of the house as well.
Because I’d seen my neighbor out shoveling part of my
sidewalk earlier (while I was drinking wine), I returned the favor and
completely cleaned up his front, and the next two places up the street as well.
As I finished up and went back indoors to the comfort of my couch and a
continued path of red wine anesthesia, I silently prayed my storm-shoveling
duty was complete and that the doomsday forecast of two additional evening
inches would never come to pass. I mean, what do you do when you've shut down the U.S. Government for 3 1/2" inches of snow...but two more is still forecast? I guess you have to start shutting down the governments of foreign countries.
Turns out the end-times weather prognosticators were
correct, and the blustery night seemed to bring at least another inch or so.
So…at about 6am the following morning I trucked out again in my North Dakota-wear
and repeated the shoveling exercise. As I worked, at least three different dog
walkers commented on the thorough job I was doing. I felt like conking them on
the head with my shovel (not sure why really…guess my “Fargo nice” had worn
off), but their unsolicited comments actually did get to thinking that you can
tell a lot about people by the way they approach snow removal.
My dad used to refer to an old Navy adage (at least he
blamed in on that service branch) which held that you can tell a lot about a
man that doesn’t take the time to properly shine the backs of his dress shoes.
I won’t go into detail here, but let’s just say it’s directly connected to that
same man’s commitment to the conservation of toilet tissue. I thought about that
yesterday as I jogged through my DC neighborhood at 4:30am in the crisp 10
degree air. As I moved from houses with meticulously shoveled cement to
those fronted by untouched sidewalks covered with practically virgin snow, it
dawned on me that you can probably tell a lot about people by the attention
they give to the polish on the backs of their shoes.
As I turned off Nebraska and ran southward toward Georgetown
on Wisconsin, I noticed the same could probably be said for businesses. So, as
I jogged along…I decided to give some grades.
The Z Burger gets an F. Best I
could tell, they’d made no attempt to clean the sidewalk in front of that
thriving testament to cardio pulmonary disease.
Across the side street the 7-11 appeared to be in even worse
shape. Not sure how that’s possible, but they get a solid F as well. Next door to 7-11
there’s a Popeye’s Fried Chicken. They’d actually cleaned off the area directly
in front of the front door…but were too lazy to move out another 10’ to clean off the
sidewalk. Somehow the fact that they'd been outside with a shovel and still done that poorly reflected even worse on them. So...they too get an F.
There’s some sort of eyeglass place next to Popeye’s and
they’d obviously been motivated by their northern neighbor’s underachievement.
What’s weird is there is a Chipolte right next door that could have served as
the model for business snow removal. Chipolte is on a corner too (Warren &
Wisconsin) and that made it all the more impressive.
There’s an apartment on the northeast
corner of Upton and Wisconsin (I couldn’t get the address…I move too fast) that
should be on the cover of Snow Removal magazine. This corner lot had snow
removal manicured to perfection…I almost slowed down to take it all in. The
Friendship Station Post Office directly across the street on Upton was kind of
a Mona Lisa of snow removal too…and they’d also put salt (or some other
granular chemical) down to help with the melt. Both the apartment building and
the Post Office get a solid A.
The next place down on the left was the prestigious private
school Sidwell Friends. Don’t really know much about it other than I hear the
President’s kids go there and that the tuition is around 30K (per child). Don't know what they're really doing in there other than keeping out kids of working stiffs that can't afford it, but it's clear they're not spending the dough on snow blowers. In fairness, hey
actually did a decent job on parts of the enormous property, but at 30K per kid, they should be able to sprinkle the pavement with diamonds instead of salt.
What’s
the point of all this? Well, if you know, please tell me. Perhaps at the very
least it’s this. If you know some otherwise able-bodied person in your
community that doesn’t take the time clear the sidewalk in front of their house
after a significant snowfall, you may be able to help them. Get them what you
know they probably really need…buy them some shoe polish and a couple of rolls of toilet paper.
Have a great weekend…and start it with some music by a group
I’m betting you haven’t heard.
No comments:
Post a Comment