March 16, 2006
Shoveling Alone (...no more)
I had decided yesterday afternoon to stay home today and work on my laptop, as we were expecting another snow storm and I didn't feel it was necessary to risk a car accident in my usual morning commute, especially since it is spring break. So, I awoke later than usual and gradually made my way downstairs to energize myself for a morning of shoveling snow.
I donned my snow armor and prepared to earn my homeowner's license with a good hour of snow shoveling. Upon opening the front door, I was pleasantly surprised by the relative warmth outside. The air was clean, crisp and each breath made me feel healthier. I began by shoveling the steps to the house. The snow was heavier than I had anticipated, given that it was so fluffy and soft last night. The morning sun must have wetted the air and made the snow settle into its current weight. Still, it felt good to shovel.
After clearing my steps, I took a moment to look across my yard, into the street, and around the neighborhood. There were a few other people outside shoveling and walking the dog. Then I noticed a glint of concrete shimmering in the periphery. I refocused and noticed more spots of wet, snowless concrete in front of my yard. Oh lord, I suddenly realized that someone had shoveled (more precisely, plowed) my sidewalk.
With this realization, I paused for a zen moment to soak up this act of neighborly charity and then scurried inside the house to grab my camera from whence this photograph was taken. It was taken from the sidewalk in front of my home. You can see the clean lines of snow created by the snowblower going all the way up to the end of the block. If you look carefully, you will notice that the sidewalk was actually plowed twice, probably once last night and again this morning. Amazing.
In 2000, Robert Putnam, a Harvard public policy/political science professor, published a book called "Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community" that posited that America's social capital was in decline. He used the metaphor of bowling to illustrate this point by noting that there are fewer and fewer bowling leagues and more people choose to bowl individually (vs. in team leagues).
Well, in Minnesota, a more apt metaphor might be shoveling snow and, at least in my neighborhood, social capital is alive and well.
Usually, when I have some extra time, I will try to shovel the snow off the sidewalk of my adjoining neighbors, especially when the snow is light and not too exhausting to remove. I also will make sure my neighbor two doors down (whom I call Old Lady Johnson) has her sidewalk cleared, which she usually does thanks to her grown children, but on rare occassion, I've taken up the task. The other thing that I like to do is clear a path between my house and the neighbors to make it easier for the postman who still delivers mail to your front door. It's something that we do for each other. Look out for each other in small ways.
When I first moved into this home back in 2003, I recall a late night door ring. Outside around 10 pm, my neighbor was standing there to tell me that he had a roof shovel available for me to use to prevent ice dams. Ice dams? I had never even heard of such a thing and had to read about it online. I was amazed by this small act of kindness. It was foreign to me, having lived in old, decrepit apartments for my whole adult life.
It made me think back to my childhood when my neighbor who had a snowblower would come over to snowplow our sidewalk during heavy snow days or clear a path between our homes so his son, Pete, and I could still pester each other even during bad weather. I guess this is where I learned neighborly kindness. Social capital in fancy language.
Posted by richlee at March 16, 2006 12:56 PM