Phantom snowman strikes again
If you have a Jon, a Ken, a Will or a phantom in your neighborhood, you are one lucky person.
Jon lived in one of my earlier neighborhoods. He had a small snowblower machine, and every time it snowed, he saw to it that our two-block area sidewalks were kept cleared. My, how I and my broom appreciated that.
Someone did it there again this year. Thank you.
Now I live in a new neighborhood where cars zoom by, it being a main access to town.
Just how I would handle my snow problem without Jon, I wasn’t sure.
With the first snow, I broomed it away since it was what I called “dry” snow but I suppose most folks in the know call it “powder.” Either way it whisks away into the air as you sweep and settles elsewhere.
My broom and I had managed it.
Then came the big snow, followed by rain and dropping temperatures, resulting in a glare of icy crust.
That’s when Ken showed up with his snowblower and did my side of the public sidewalk. I saw him there so I’m sure it must have been he. I was grateful.
Later, I got my broom and went out to clear the sidewalk from my house and the driveway to the street. It was 32 degrees. My, did I ever get a shock.
The broom brushed over the snow as though it were a hardwood floor or an ice-skating rink.
I moved not a snowflake.
Since I no longer use a snow shovel except in emergencies (hard on the heart, you know), I decided to wait and try again with my broom if the temperature allowed the snow to soften.
I was carrying armloads of books from one end of the house to the other in hopes of finding storage for them when my eye caught someone outside my window.
That’s where Will came into the story. His name was apt, for he had a handled metal snow shovel and was working on clearing my walkway and then my driveway. It was not easy work, for he had to chop the ice into blocks before he could move them. That’s how I remember its being done when I was young and motorized help was at a minimum.
A shovel of snow is heavy and it takes strong arms to lift and toss the load out of the way. Up and down the streets you would see these willing workers doing this important job. One of those was doing likewise at my house recently. I was elated.
I feel like these men, who had each come to my house without being asked, were my 2013 Christmas gifts, and they warmed my heart.
This morning (Jan. 8) Ken cleared my driveway and the phantom did the public sidewalk in front of my house. Who is it? My thanks to both.
. . .
I feel terrible and even a wet noodle thrashing couldn’t make me feel better about it. Rule Number 1 for reporters surely must be to check your sources. I failed to do that for last week’s column since I was so sure that I had it correct.
Now it turns out that I was wrong twice and the embarrassment of it is almost overwhelming.
You see, I was sure that the address of the Sub Shop 21 was 114 Depot St., but when I sent it in to the Herald I wrote it as 411. My effort to get it fixed was too late and the paper was already on its way to the press.
Anyway it didn’t come out as 114 but as 411. That hardly matters because they are both wrong.
Let me now give you the official address of the Sub Shop 21 located at 111 Depot St., a half block off Adams Avenue next to the alleyway on the east side of the street and next to American Family Insurance at 109 Depot.
There! Do I feel better? Not much. I shouldn’t have made the error in the first place. My fault. Where is that wet noodle?