I swear, I have rarely seen my neighbours interact with each other. Last week’s storm changed all that.
Day one of the storm was hunker down day. Stay off the roads day. And bake cookies day. Much like preparing for Christmas.
That was fine for a while until I realized that Santa wasn’t coming nor were any friends or relatives.
After de-cluttering the deepest part of my basement, I knew I was in trouble when I kept the cable company on the phone for 45 minutes having them explain to me what channels I had subscribed to. I feel I owe them the hourly wage of that poor call centre girl who patiently explained the difference between Tier 1 and Tier 4 channel packages. Did you know that you can drop the entire boring Tier I channels and jump right to the juicy Tier 4 channels? Or maybe I misunderstood that part.
Anyway, I soon became an expert in American politics after watching CNN and BBC for three straight hours as I gauged the snow fall intensity and tried to predict when I could venture out to join humanity again. There was no end in sight to the snow fall so I took the plunge into the world of Tier 4 channels.
It didn’t take me too long to stumble upon the religious channels and I soon got an education on why the world is in end times. That really cheered me up so I thought I would do something really fun like clear out a basement bedroom so when the storm clears I could stock up on canned soup and bottled water in case the religious announcer was right.
By this time, I knew I was in dangerous psychological territory and absolutely had to step outside no matter what and get some air. I made up for my lost gym time getting dressed to shovel snow. I twisted myself into at least a dozen different yoga postures squeezing into three different layers of clothing. Got to look good you know. Storm or no storm.
Lucky for me I had a pair of knee-high Sorrels from the early eighties. Do you remember those arctic boots that are good to minus 40?
Upon opening my garage door, I was shocked to discover that my snow had been cleared. By whom, I wanted to know.
Luckily, whoever cleared my snow left some rough edges for me to smooth out, which was good news because it took me an hour to get dressed for this occasion and I was looking pretty good, let me tell you.
Anyway, I chipped away at the rough edges when a strange man came out of my neighbour’s house. I yelled at my neighbour lady, “Did this man clear my snow?” “No,” she replied, “he came to fix our fireplaces.”
I watched him strategically floor his truck in reverse so he could get out of my neighbour’s driveway. He fish-tailed all the way down our steep street doing his best to avoid hitting the parked cars.
“Did you guys clear my snow?” I yelled back at her. “Yes, Rick did it. He said he didn’t see any sign of you leaving your home for a day so he figured you were pretty much stuck.”
Wow. That was nice. I hastily ran inside to find the best bottle of wine I had and took it over to them. Earlier that day, their own daughter was stuck on our street only to have another neighbour push her out.
Then I realized that today is when my housecleaners come. I knew I had to evacuate because they really do their best work when I’m not around.
So I attempted to leave my street when I noticed a minivan stuck at the bottom of our hill. I quickly went home to get my Sorrels on so I could help push her out. By the time I got there, she was gone. Ten minutes later my door bell rang – it was the maid carrying a mop, a pail full of supplies, and another pail full of clean rags. She was desperately out of breath and told me how she was stuck in her van at the end of street and had to park two blocks away and walk!
Wow. I was speechless. She was afraid she would get a ticket because they were clearing the streets. I told her she didn’t have to clean my house today but she told me that she was a single mother and needed the money.
Grateful for her dedication, I allowed her to proceed and got into my car and headed out into the great white. As Murphy’s Law would have it, my car decided not to start when I was in a distant neighbourhood with no businesses around, and I had left my Sorrels at home. AMA told me I had to wait six hours to be rescued.
As I sat in my car fogging up the windows, I decided to call my young nephew-in-law to see if he could rescue me. A busy young father of two, he dropped everything to get me. After boosting my car, he followed me to Canadian Tire and along the way my car suddenly conked out on Giroux Road and it was dark. Both of us stopped suddenly in busy traffic with cars narrowly missing hitting us.
The young father precariously boosted me again and followed closely behind until we arrived at Canadian Tire. Interestingly enough, he wasn’t supposed to be in town. Actually, he was sent to New York to help the residents with their flooding problems but got turned around in Chicago and sent home.
Canadian Tire was busy, beyond belief. They decided to work three extra hours to help motorists like me. Within a couple of hours, they determined my problem was very slight – a loose battery cable. I was back in action. I called for a taxi and delighted at the reasonable 15 minute wait.
By the time I got home, I was giddy. It felt the room was spinning like when I was six years old, and my sister and I would turn around in circles really fast and then laugh ourselves silly as we tried to avoid bumping into each other. And then it hit me – it really was like Christmas! Santa never came, nor did any relatives, but I felt like I was six years old again and happy and grateful for the maid, the auto tech, the fireplace guy, the cable girl, the taxi cab driver, and the young father – all of us stuck in this snowy world together trying to get our bearings in a very dangerous world. And all of us laughing at our predicaments and encouraging each other along the way like we used to do when we were children.
I guess St. Matthew got it right when he wrote, “Truly I say to you, unless you are converted and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 18:3.
Sharon Ryan lives in St. Albert and teaches ethics for UCLA Extension.
