Big Job, Little Shovel

A Faux Real Story

This week, as we deal with the longest nights of the year, I thought we could all gather around the virtual fire each day and I would tell you all a story.

Snuggle into a blanket, maybe with someone you love or a friendly pet. Take a few moments of time and enjoy.

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Every time we have a build-up to another Iowa Winter storm, I am reminded of one of my earlier life experiences involving a significant snow. I certainly felt the energy of the impending storm, just like every other elementary school-aged child who attended public school in the Upper Midwest.

It was exciting! It was different! There was a definite tension being put out by the adults that the children certainly tuned in on.

And, hey! It was SNOW! Possibly lots of it. Probably enough for a snow day away from school, which was always fun - even if you happened to be a kid that liked school.

Maybe our family was different from yours, but we often undertook BIGGER play projects on snow days - if you know what I mean. After all, there would be a whole day to fill. Instead of a few crayons and a couple of pieces of paper, every possible writing and drawing utensil and REAMS of paper would come out. Instead of a batch of Matchbox cars in a corner of the living room, we'd put together a track with a loop-de-loop and spend hours running cars off the edge of the kitchen table onto that obstacle course.

And, of course, we could expect a good session outdoors in the fresh snowfall. Snow tunnels. Snow forts. Snowmen. Snowballs.

And of course, at least one moment where a bit of cold, melting snow followed your spine down your back.

Prior to this particular snowfall, I had received a kid-sized snow shovel so I could help Dad with cleaning the driveway. I recall that I had a chance to use it a bit before the "big storm." And, I am certain I had an outsized idea as to exactly how much "help" I gave Dad cleaning the drive after a couple of lighter snows. It felt good to have the feeling that I had contributed and it was nice to be able to do something with him.

Flushed with success on prior snow shoveling exploits, I was ready for the "big time!" So, when this storm came along, I was certain I was ready.

We gathered around the kitchen, listening to the radio and we waited for the inevitable proclamation that Newton schools had closed. There had been a fair amount of wind and the drifting was severe - even in town - which meant we were all up early for the first reading of closings and delays. The list was always alphabetical, but we could “hear” the writing on the wall. Ames, Ankeny… Grinnell… Mitchellville… and there it was… Newton!

I seem to recall that Dad still had to get to work and he said something about doing the shoveling when he got back home. Upon hearing that I piped in with, "I'll shovel it for you Dad!" There was a slightly amused look that passed between my parents, but I was given an encouraging reply.

Later that morning, I bundled myself up to perform my self-appointed task. Our house had an attached garage that emptied in the back onto a covered (but not enclosed) patio and into the driveway in front. My shovel was on the patio, so I went out there and pushed some of the snow off the edges of the patio and out of the way. Then, I trotted through the garage towards the pass-through door in the front of the garage.

I opened the door.

And I looked straight into a wall of snow.

The snow was pressed up firmly against the door and stayed in place when I opened the door. The design of the door and the shape of the doorknob were neatly impressed into the smooth, white surface. And, as I looked up, there was only a small sliver of light where the anemic sun shone through a tiny gap between the snow and the top of the door frame.

Now what?

Having minimal snow moving experience, I acted on the only solution that immediately came to mind. I broke some snow out of the wall to make a small pile on the floor. Then, I took one shovel-full at a time through the garage to the patio. Once out there, I threw that snow as best I could into the back yard. If any snow fell off my shovel in the process, I would return to clean it up.

I worked diligently for a while, but I soon found myself stopping more often to stare, with growing dismay, at the snow wall that didn't seem like it was changing all that much.

After a while, a minor avalanche fell into the garage (not a surprise really) and I worked on taking that snow through the garage, out to the patio and into the yard. But, my level of consternation only grew with each trip. It was almost as if my pile of worry was trying to grow as big as the pile of snow.

You have to understand, the image in my mind was that the snow was that deep ALL THE WAY to the end of the driveway. How was I EVER going to succeed at a task that big?!?

Eventually, my Mom suggested that I had done enough and I believe I was all too willing to accept that. The shovel got pushed into the pile of snow near the garage door and I went inside. Relieved to have had the responsibility taken from me.

When Dad came home that night, he was greeted by the image of a tiny shovel, poking forlornly - and maybe a bit defiantly - out of the snow pile by the garage door.

It turns out that the wind had really stacked the snow up on that side of the house and garage. It's entirely possible that, if I had allowed myself to just be a kid and barrel into the pile a few times, I would have found an escape through the door and pushed the snow away from the house more effectively than I had with taking snow on a shovel and through the garage.

But, it was a matter of pride. I said I would SHOVEL that snow. So, I did. No cheating. No shortcuts. Every bit of snow that DID get moved was moved via SHOVEL.

I probably felt that I had failed in my task then, but now I consider this effort a success because I gave my Dad a real laugh.

And I got a good story out of it.