We're finally getting real winter type weather in our neck of the woods. Unlike mowing the lawn, I rarely put on headphones and listen to music while shoveling snow. Dunno why, just don't. My thoughts tend to drift while working and today was no exception. I thought back to the numerous times I shoveled the walk in front of my childhood home in Chicago. I recalled the blizzard of 1967 when our dog ran away and we were sure he was buried in a snow drift, run over by a snow plow. He came home the next day cold and wet but in one piece. I remember the entire neighborhood working to clear the sidewalks, sewers, even the alley. In my naivete, I wondered why people could not cooperate like this more often. It really felt like community.
Then I flashed back to the air raid drills in 3rd grade when the nuns instructed us to get under our desks, pray the rosary, and wait for the all clear signal. I am pretty sure this was during the Cuban missile crisis. I've often heard some of my generation talk about the existential dread they lived with under the threat of total nuclear destruction. My main concern was if it happened, I wanted it to happen when the family was together at home.
Just before going to to clear the driveway was sitting in the front room drinking coffee with Mrs. Metal Dad when we noticed a freaking huge coyote strolling leisurely across the street then traipsing into one of our neighbor's yards.