Shoveled Sidewalks Make Good Neighbors

Sunday evening presented itself with the usual problem: falling asleep. Although there were special circumstances last night. I enjoyed a great dinner. Chicken Drumsticks seasoned with a "North Woods" rub and a hit of barbecue sauce. Fresh vegetables. Half of a grapefruit and a popsicle.

I partially read some of my National Geographic Magazine, watched the Oscars, and played with my new Nano iPOD (black, 1G). It snowed all afternoon, so I had gone out and shoveled and salted the walk-ways.

Feeling tired around 11:45pm, I turned the lights off, fired up my sonicare toothbrush, Listerine'd for 30 seconds, and turned the heat down to 60.

A once familiar sound got my attention. It was the sound of fire trucks. Having spent a year of my life living a few blocks away from a fire station and worked for 5 years in residence life, it used to be music to my ears. However, here in my hovel in meso-suburbia, I rarely hear the sounds of emergency vehicles.

Excitement grew as the sirens were getting closer. I opened my blinds to get a better look at things outside, guessing I would see bellowing flames from a second floor window somewhere--all I saw was the yellow street-light casting on the snow. I could soon hear the roaring of the engines and could see the flashing of the red lights as the fire truck (a huge ladder truck) pulled up right outside of my house. Sirens silenced. Strobe lights pierced the night into my living room. I was wearing boxer-shorts.

Like any home-owner faced with this conundrum, I realized that there's a fighting good chance that I might have missed some snow on the side-walk, so best I get some clothes on and go shovel! (oh, and see why the fire department was setting up shop outside my window.)

Sweatpants. Hooded Indiana sweatshirt. Fleece jacket. Boots. Gloves.

With a shovel in hand, I walked on the snowless sidewalk to the front of my house. Heck, I crossed the street and joined the three other neighbors who had gathered in the time it took me to quickly dress and get outside. Ironically, we all held shovels and I presume that none of us had been shoveling. Mere props. Conversation had already fabricated stories. Dryer fire. Chimney fire. "You never know with how old some of these houses are." But the firemen were mysteriously lurking around with flashlights.

After several minutes one of the head firemen noticed our gathering. "Someone called in a gas leak. But we can't smell anything. Have you smelled any gas tonight?" He honestly thought we had been outside shoveling. "No. No sir, not...not over here" "Um, no," we all mumbled.

Almost with disappointment, we went our separate ways. I couldn't find any snow to shovel.


Reading: The Trouble with Poetry and Other Poems by Billy Collins
Listening: Bright Eyes