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When I was working and living in the Northeastern United States on too many occasions I needed to move some snow to get to work, so I could afford to continue living in the Northeastern United States. I mainly did it by shoveling.
I thought about getting a snow blower and might have, if I had found one that blew snow. The only ones I had seen used a spinning auger to displace it quickly. I thought about what else could get displaced quickly by that spinning metal. My fingers or an arm came to mind and I have stuck with shovels. Less moving parts.
It is mostly men who shovel snow. For many men, it was their first money making job as a boy. I got my start as a free laborer. My father thought it made sense that I do it as something to do when school was canceled due to the white stuff.
I got my masters degree in snow shoveling following getting a degree in psychology at the State University College at Oswego, which is in Oswego, New York. Oswego is not only in the Northeastern United States it is on the shore of Lake Ontario, which is a generator of what is known as “lake effect” snowstorms.
Snow shoveling was too often a race between my energy giving out and being late for work.
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When I was in college I lived in college-owned dormitories. Snow removal came with that deal. It was a great place to winter. While I was there a single storm led to the accumulation of 77 inches of snow. Roads shut down and I went for a walk. I literally could not see my hand in front of my face for the snow. There was a report that a woman gave birth on the seat of a snowmobile. I’m glad I didn’t see that.
A fellow student at Oswego was even more fascinated in the weather than I. His name was Al Roker, a name that became synonymous with day to day climate changes, as Al became America’s favorite weatherman.
Oswego has had snow storms that have deposited more than 100 inches of snow. Apparently, a road leading into the small city needed the assistance of dynamite in 1966 to clear the impacted snowflakes. When I lived in Oswego for four years after college, I was tempted to try firecrackers, but always settled for the shovel. One year it snowed every day for 36 days in a row. I learned how to lift a shovel full of snow over my head.
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I generally appreciated the first glimpse of snow falling from the skies, but would quickly disparage the accumulation in my driveway. Snow shoveling was too often a race between my energy giving out and being late for work.
Retirement slowed the race. The early symptoms of my Parkinson’s Disease included difficulty with balance and a little shuffling in my step. When I moved to a house with a rather steep driveway, I said a few prayers. Medicine helped my Parkinson’s disease, but so did my refusal to give up shoveling snow. Not working meant less money to give up and give into paying for a man with a plow or a neighbor teenager with a snowblower, which added economics to my incentive to keep shoveling.
Along with snow often comes ice. Just like I’ve heard that indigenous people, living in subarctic regions, have many different words to describe variations in ice crystal formation, I learned that weather reports did me little good with their generalized prediction of “wintery mix.” I needed to inform myself with on the ground observation. The asphalt driveway gave me experience in the wrong way to check for “black ice.”
I reminded myself of the recipe for “heart attack snow,” – some parts snow, plus some parts rain on top. I found that my increase in meditative practice made it easier to practice mindful snow shoveling. I was mindful that I was usually one false move from a strained back or a broken arm from falling down.
I feel what yoga, meditation, cardiovascular exercise and resistance weight living training that I sometimes do, all play a part in keeping me shoveling.
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Shoveling on a steep icy driveway provides many opportunities to give pause. Get too afraid and fall, get too relaxed and fall, quickly gets involved in the reflection.
I am still aware now in my retirement of a sense of frustration that the driveway is not getting cleared fast enough, even when I have no need to get anywhere. I have found that noticing the light dancing on the snow or the rhythm of my breath or the sound of a shovel full hitting the snow bank, can bring me back into the right now of the job.
I become aware of how my body knows how to fling snow well and how often it forgets to. I avoid any aspirin or other so-called anti-inflammatory medicines to avoid not having pain be my guide as to the limits of my shoveling movements. I do apply some ice to the back of my neck daily because I believe it cools my vagus nerve and that a cool vagus nerve helps control inflammation, at least that is what I think I remember reading on the internet.
I feel what yoga, meditation, cardiovascular exercise and resistance weight living training that I sometimes do, all play a part in keeping me shoveling. I have caught myself grumbling that the snow will keep me from wanting to go to the gym just before getting inside to lay on the floor to stretch my back out and recoup from muscle fatigue. Lying on the floor, a desire to get to the gym melts.
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The other day I went from wishing I was done shoveling to getting a second wind. My granddaughter was coming for a visit and I thought it might be nice to have a snow labyrinth for her to walk, so I kept going in the back yard. I got an odd look from the neighbors. Later, after she had her fun with it, I tried it out for a walking meditation. I had heard of the spiritual practice of walking an inwardly spiraling path. I know now there can be something spiritual to this.
As a man, I have been socialized to value power tools and getting a job done. A job well done can provide access for others to have fun or go do what they need or want to do. I have been socialized to believe that a man sometimes has to do what a man has to do to remove obstacles to get to the good times. In retirement I am learning that physical labor can also be recreational.
As I finish writing this, I notice that it is snowing outside. Oh shit not again!
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Photo credit: Getty Images
David, You often confuse me with this type of double standard approach to men and women. How many times do we speak out against sexism when we see women pigeonholed into formerly held female expectation, but here we are doing so to men with, the “manly” art of snow removal. Think for a second. Would we ever put up a piece and call it, “The womanly art of cooking and cleaning”? However, here we are with this. Now I’m not sure if this is some macho ego play, or some sort of elbow rubbing male unity thing, but what I… Read more »