It was 5:45, Wednesday, February 5. Always an early riser, I was sitting at the kitchen table having my usual oatmeal, half an orange, and black coffee and looking out the front window and marveling at the free-fall snow, cloaking the outdoors in pure white and turning it into a masterpiece of nature.
I was dying to get out there. To shovel the driveway and front walk? No, to play in the snow.
Here I am waving goodbye to my grown-up, understanding, super-caring wife.
She had made sure I was wearing long underwear, had my scarf on, and had warm gloves. She noticed that there was a hole in the left thumb. "You going to be warm enough with that?" she asked.
"I'm good."
"You sure?"
And I was off into a winter wonderland.
The big storm was no surprise, that's for sure. TV weather mavens had been warning us of the storm for days and scaring the crap out of people. It's going to be eight inches to a foot, they said. Stores are going to be closed; so unless you want to starve, stock up on food.
Don't drive; the roads will be too dangerous and you could easily get run over by a monster plow. In fact, don't go outside at all. There's ice under all this snow; one false step and you crash and land on your head.
Maybe get a little healthy exercise with some light shoveling. However, do not, do not overdue it. Bottom line, this is a dangerous storm; don't take any chances with it -- unless you want to die.
Was I scared? Hah! Just a couple of weeks before, I took a dive playing tennis and ended up in the emergency room getting six stitches in my hand and bandages on my face and knees. Big deal. I'm healing and couldn't wait to get out in the middle of this great big beautiful storm.
And, best of all, it looked like I, moi, would likely have this winter wonderland to myself except for monster plows acting like they own the road. Hey, guys, you got it all wrong. I own the road, not you.
You work for me so ... so ... stay out of my way!
And then I was out in a paradise of natural beauty.
Well, I think it's beautiful. I especially like the words on this license plate, "The Spirit of America." To me, I am out here in the same spirit of our forebears who explored and tamed a wild and unknown continent and made it what it is today. Or. you are probably thinking, I am a crazy old man out in this storm because he doesn't know any better?
Let's vote on it. If you think I'm in the spirit of America, raise a leg. Please, raise a leg. I'm waiting. Sorry, we have to move on. If you think I'm just a crazy old man, raise a leg. OMG! An army of legs!
Well, here's what I have to say: You're all dead wrong! I'm in the true spirit of America and all the rest of you are ... are.... No, I'm going to calm down and not let this get to me.
Instead, let me introduce you to a soul mate I met out in the storm. Except for two people walking dogs, she was the only other person I saw out walking. Here she is:
"Hi," I said with a smile, "what are you doing out on a day like this?"
She smiled back. "Good morning, I'm going to work. I live on the hill up there and didn't want to drive down in this."
"That makes sense," I said, now walking on the road beside her. "Where do you work?"
"Oh just down the road. We have an office where that big elderly sign is."
"I know right where it is. So you work with the elderly?"
"Not really. We do counseling for anybody who needs it."
"Hey, how about that?" I said brightly. "Counseling. Here I am out here in this storm and just what I need. How's that for timeliness?"
She laughed. And then, reading my expression, she beat me to what I was about to say. "I guess I could use a little counseling myself."
We both had a good laugh. I told her I was writing a story about the storm, gave her my card, and asked if I could take her picture.
"Sure," she said, posing for the camera.
"Send me an email," I said, "and I'll have your name and make sure you see the story."
So lady, where's your email? (Just kidding.)
Next the Donut Cafe, pictured below, where I go on big snowstorms.
Normally the Donut Cafe is packed mornings, but today there were just me and a couple of other guys, regulars from nearby. The two waitresses had little to do but look out at the storm. "We'll probably close early," said the owner, who is shown in the photo clearing snow.
I took a seat by the window. I call it the VIP table and the waitresses go right along with it without missing a beat. I ordered black coffee and raisin toast with a little jelly on the side. I sat there munching, sipping, flirting with the waitress waiting on me.
"I hope Lisa is not going to be jealous," I said with a concerned look. Lisa is another waitress who was not there. She tapped my wedding band and, with faux seriousness, said, "Lisa's not the problem, that's a problem, a big problem. You're married."
We both had a good laugh.
From my VIP spot, I marveled at the snow packed scene outside -- which included an animal looking in right past me. He was totally uninterested in me. My feelings were a little hurt.
"Hi buddy. Good boy. Isn't all this snow great?"
He didn't even look at me. His eyes were fixed on his owner inside.
On the trek home, I saw a few people shoveling. But I met not a soul on the road out for a walk and a magical time.
This beautiful snow storm was all mine!
So long and keep moving.
NOTE: Something Tells Her, my new e-book, is now available on Amazon.
Jane is abandoned as a baby and raised in multiple horrific foster homes. After her latest abuse, a sexual advance from her latest foster parent, she screams "NO!" and runs out the door Twelve years old, on the street, alone, no family, nobody, no money, how can she possibly survive? She can't -- except that Jane is no ordinary foster kid. She doesn't understand "can't." Read excerpts.
Other Amazon E-Books by George Pollock
"State Kid: Hero of Literacy" is fiction based on his real-life experiences growing up in foster homes; "Last Laughs," is the true story of how five foster kids (he and four younger siblings) found their way in life and each other. "Killers: Surprises in a Maximum Security Prison," is the story of his being locked up for 23 hours with killers in a maximum security prison; "I, Cadaver" is about his postmortem adventures and mischief in the anatomy lab at UMass Medical School. “A Beautiful Story” demonstrates the art and process of creative writing as a 16-year-old boy goes all out to write a story that literally saves his life. "Unlove Story," is the true story of a husband -- writing anonymously as "Elvis" -- who is dumped after 38 years of marriage and lets it all out on love, marriage, life, everything. A guy doing this? It's unheard of.
I was dying to get out there. To shovel the driveway and front walk? No, to play in the snow.
Here I am waving goodbye to my grown-up, understanding, super-caring wife.
She had made sure I was wearing long underwear, had my scarf on, and had warm gloves. She noticed that there was a hole in the left thumb. "You going to be warm enough with that?" she asked.
"I'm good."
"You sure?"
And I was off into a winter wonderland.
The big storm was no surprise, that's for sure. TV weather mavens had been warning us of the storm for days and scaring the crap out of people. It's going to be eight inches to a foot, they said. Stores are going to be closed; so unless you want to starve, stock up on food.
Don't drive; the roads will be too dangerous and you could easily get run over by a monster plow. In fact, don't go outside at all. There's ice under all this snow; one false step and you crash and land on your head.
Maybe get a little healthy exercise with some light shoveling. However, do not, do not overdue it. Bottom line, this is a dangerous storm; don't take any chances with it -- unless you want to die.
Was I scared? Hah! Just a couple of weeks before, I took a dive playing tennis and ended up in the emergency room getting six stitches in my hand and bandages on my face and knees. Big deal. I'm healing and couldn't wait to get out in the middle of this great big beautiful storm.
And, best of all, it looked like I, moi, would likely have this winter wonderland to myself except for monster plows acting like they own the road. Hey, guys, you got it all wrong. I own the road, not you.
You work for me so ... so ... stay out of my way!
And then I was out in a paradise of natural beauty.
Let's vote on it. If you think I'm in the spirit of America, raise a leg. Please, raise a leg. I'm waiting. Sorry, we have to move on. If you think I'm just a crazy old man, raise a leg. OMG! An army of legs!
Well, here's what I have to say: You're all dead wrong! I'm in the true spirit of America and all the rest of you are ... are.... No, I'm going to calm down and not let this get to me.
Instead, let me introduce you to a soul mate I met out in the storm. Except for two people walking dogs, she was the only other person I saw out walking. Here she is:
She smiled back. "Good morning, I'm going to work. I live on the hill up there and didn't want to drive down in this."
"That makes sense," I said, now walking on the road beside her. "Where do you work?"
"Oh just down the road. We have an office where that big elderly sign is."
"I know right where it is. So you work with the elderly?"
"Not really. We do counseling for anybody who needs it."
"Hey, how about that?" I said brightly. "Counseling. Here I am out here in this storm and just what I need. How's that for timeliness?"
She laughed. And then, reading my expression, she beat me to what I was about to say. "I guess I could use a little counseling myself."
We both had a good laugh. I told her I was writing a story about the storm, gave her my card, and asked if I could take her picture.
"Sure," she said, posing for the camera.
"Send me an email," I said, "and I'll have your name and make sure you see the story."
So lady, where's your email? (Just kidding.)
Next the Donut Cafe, pictured below, where I go on big snowstorms.
Normally the Donut Cafe is packed mornings, but today there were just me and a couple of other guys, regulars from nearby. The two waitresses had little to do but look out at the storm. "We'll probably close early," said the owner, who is shown in the photo clearing snow.
I took a seat by the window. I call it the VIP table and the waitresses go right along with it without missing a beat. I ordered black coffee and raisin toast with a little jelly on the side. I sat there munching, sipping, flirting with the waitress waiting on me.
"I hope Lisa is not going to be jealous," I said with a concerned look. Lisa is another waitress who was not there. She tapped my wedding band and, with faux seriousness, said, "Lisa's not the problem, that's a problem, a big problem. You're married."
We both had a good laugh.
From my VIP spot, I marveled at the snow packed scene outside -- which included an animal looking in right past me. He was totally uninterested in me. My feelings were a little hurt.
"Hi buddy. Good boy. Isn't all this snow great?"
He didn't even look at me. His eyes were fixed on his owner inside.
On the trek home, I saw a few people shoveling. But I met not a soul on the road out for a walk and a magical time.
This beautiful snow storm was all mine!
So long and keep moving.
NOTE: Something Tells Her, my new e-book, is now available on Amazon.
Jane is abandoned as a baby and raised in multiple horrific foster homes. After her latest abuse, a sexual advance from her latest foster parent, she screams "NO!" and runs out the door Twelve years old, on the street, alone, no family, nobody, no money, how can she possibly survive? She can't -- except that Jane is no ordinary foster kid. She doesn't understand "can't." Read excerpts.
Other Amazon E-Books by George Pollock
"State Kid: Hero of Literacy" is fiction based on his real-life experiences growing up in foster homes; "Last Laughs," is the true story of how five foster kids (he and four younger siblings) found their way in life and each other. "Killers: Surprises in a Maximum Security Prison," is the story of his being locked up for 23 hours with killers in a maximum security prison; "I, Cadaver" is about his postmortem adventures and mischief in the anatomy lab at UMass Medical School. “A Beautiful Story” demonstrates the art and process of creative writing as a 16-year-old boy goes all out to write a story that literally saves his life. "Unlove Story," is the true story of a husband -- writing anonymously as "Elvis" -- who is dumped after 38 years of marriage and lets it all out on love, marriage, life, everything. A guy doing this? It's unheard of.
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