I had to shovel snow the other day, and I'm still mad about it. I mean to say, I'm still reaping the benefits!
I have this theory, see. Everyone knows that shoveling is a wonderful, aerobic workout; but my theory is that shoveling is also the most complete and rigorous spiritual exercise you can perform. There is no lesson about life, no revelation about the soul that cannot be gained through shoveling. It's practically designed to fight each one of the deadly sins in turn. For instance:
SLOTH
Obviously. There are few mistakes for which you will be so thoroughly and incontestably repaid than shoveling slothfully. It may seem perfectly reasonable to skip clearing that last three inches of compacted frozen slush because you've been working steadily for a good hour-and-a-half, and your nose is numb and your back is steaming and you fingers are nothing but ten little nubbins of stabbing pain. So you give it the old "Aw, close enough" salute, and you may even think you've gotten away with it -- until you have to go somewhere in the van. You tighten your seat belt, you take a big breath, you wait for traffic to clear, and you tromp hard on the gas -- and you discover that, man, you really could have used an extra three inches of clearance. Unless you like being stuck halfway out onto the highway with a vanful of shrieking children, just dangling there, hung up like a big fat fish on a pike, begging to be broadsided by the first hot shot who's checking his smartphone instead of watching the road.
I, for one, do not like that.
PRIDE
It happens to me every winter at least once. Maybe not every time, and maybe I'll go through most of the winter without it happening, but sooner or later, I'll be there chipping and chopping my way through the end part where the heavy duty plow went by, and I just get to working so hard that my pants fall down.
Yes, I understand that "humility" doesn't mean feeling humiliated. But throw me a bone here, will you? I'm trying to write, and my pants fell down.
LUST
If you've just finished shoveling and you can still think about anything other than sitting down to die, my Hello Kitty hat is off to you.
And so on. There are other miscellaneous spiritual lessons to be learned, too. For instance, you have two choices when you are shoveling: you can either pick up and carry a manageable load, and make lots of trips, which takes time and patience; or you can load 'er up like a tough guy, hoist it, stagger a few steps, and end up tipping the whole mess onto your feet. Chew, if you're still making New Year's resolutions, on that!
Another good lesson? A large part of shoveling well is just forging ahead, working hard, huff and puff, toil and strain. But all the energy in the world is not going to do you much good if you forget where you are. For instance, you might have a real good rhythm going, and you're chugging along like Mary Anne and making wonderful progress, but you must not forget that there is a big rock in the middle of the driveway. Ow. Teeth. Ow.
Now, eventually, when everything thaws out, you should probably dig out that big rock and make your driveway nice and smooth so you won't have this problem next winter. But for now, the most prudent course of action is to go slow, work around it, and temper your enthusiasm with a little strategy and foresight so you don't accidentally bite your tongue off.
Oh, so that is a metaphor for sin or something.
One more thing: when shoveling, there are many, many opportunities to work on the sin of envy. The thing about New Hampshire people is, we have perfected the stone face. We feel completely comfortable with just looking at people, just looking, with bland, detached, inhuman, placid fascination, at (for instance) some lady who is clearly on the verge of hysteria as she hacks away at her ice-encrusted mailbox with one hand and holds up her pants with the other, leaving no hands free to wipe her nose, which is flowing like the mighty Mississippi. There are people who drive gleaming little Ford F-150's with a fine yellow plow mounted on the front, and who are toting a brand new 414 cc two-stage snow blower with power steering for superior maneuverability. They drive by my house in fleets every time I shovel, and they look, and they look. Where are they going? Someplace warm. And while they're on their way, they're drinking coffee that someone else made for them, their noses are nose-colored, and they are wearing hats that belong to them and do not have Hello Kitty on them. And they just look, like I'm a display in the store window, put there for their stony-hearted, warm-nosed looking pleasure.
So, yeah, a chance to work on envy. I am also making plans to buy my own hat.
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I thought about you as my husband and I had to shovel our driveway by hand last week. It was, like, 10 at night, and we’d both had a couple of glasses of wine, and even trying to make it seem like a fun sort of date didn’t help.
Plus, I kept thinking “frisson of urban dispair”. The phrase was stuck on permaloop in my head.
I blame the wine.
Thanks.We only have mud here to slog through & get stuck in.I’m going to feel better about it after considering we at least don’t have to shovel it.
You be careful up there & God bless!
Your article on shoveling snow has taught me to be thankful: As much as I can complain about where I live, it is a part of the world where we NEVER have to shovel snow!
You make me glad that the most interaction I’ve had with snow is, “Oh cool, it makes crunchy sounds when you walk on it!”
Also Simcha Fisher, you may be my favorite writer ever. Well definitely in the blogosphere.
I was at my parents’ over Christmas, and my dad was looking all over for “his” hat so he could go shoveling. The hat in question screamed, in huge letters, “ATTITUDE WEEKLY!,” a teen section of the local newspaper that my sister wrote for about 15 years ago. I guess he needs to make plans to buy his own hat, too.
I think you forgot about Anger. As in who the heck raised these bleepity bleepin’ lazy bums who are supposed to be out here helping me shovel this mountain of snow but instead are redistributing it all over the places I’ve already shovelled??!!
.
Only other thing I want to mention is, you know those people driving by in fleets looking at you? They want you to flag them down. For the right price, they’re hoping you’ll let let them plow your troubles away.
Pride: the only reason I shovel the driveway is because the neighbors might think poorly of me.
When I have to shovel, say, 8 inches of snow in Connecticut, I tell myself, “Well, at least I don’t live in New Hampshire.”
“Be of good cheer!” (John 16:33)
www.merrycatholic.com
I oppress my children to shovel snow. If they quibble, I point out that a parent who shovels is sore and cranky for days, whereas they are not. And wouldn’t they prefer NOT to have a cranky parent? (Note, I started having kids in my 30s.)I’m not sure if it builds my virtue, but while they’re out I get to turn to my husband and do my best James Earl Jones:“Perhaps I can find new ways to motivate them.”
Their noses are nose-colored.
Awesome.
actually mother teresa said that humiliation was a great way to cultivate the virtue of humulity. this has been a great consolation to me.corner
So snowblowers are an invention of the devil? ;-)
I wish I had a nose-colored nose.
I try to think virtuous thoughts when I’m shoveling, but usually all I can think is “Why isn’t my husband doing this?”
Great synopsis, I’ll try to remember some of this good stuff next time I am out shoveling (My husband ALWAYS seems to be away on a business trip when it snows). BTW, I have done that gotten stuck halfway out of the driveway thing. Cut up an old towel into 4 strips, place them under your tires and drive right over the ice (yes, I googled how to get unstuck one night while I had screaming children in the car and this is what I found). Worked like a charm.
Well, it doesn’t snow in New York City too, too often, but when it does oy vey! I live on a busy street in Queens and always have the dilemma of choosing whether to park my car in the driveway during a storm or on the street. If I park in the driveway, at least I can take my time cleaning the car off without having to worry about getting run over by the bus that’s hurtling down the block. But, then every time I clear the driveway apron of snow, the plow comes back around to shovel me back in. One year I seriously thought I was going to lose my mind and stood in the driveway, shovel in hand, while the plow came back for the umpteenth time. The driver must have seen the glazed look in my eyes and took pity on me. He waved me back and came around to clear out my driveway instead of digging it in again. So, I can definitely relate to working out my salvation while shoveling. Patience, humility, holding my tongue…. Hello winter!
Well, if you were wearing a proper skirt, *that* would be what would fall down instead of your pants!
“I’m trying to write, and my pants fell down.” There is a joke somehow connecting that sentence to nine children. I will let someone else work out the details and let me know if it is funny. For example, “I’m trying to write, and my pants fell down. Next thing you know, I have nine children and am writing a blog for NCR.” Is that funny without being mean? I will let someone else decide and that person can tell me.
Oh, quit griping. I put the toilet seat down AND shovel the driveway!
I’ll make you a hat. Any kind you want. Just get rid of Hello Kitty!!
Oh Simcha, you are hilarious!
My co-workers are wondering why I’m wiping tears from my eyes. Hats off to you ;)
I’m a very visual person. You keep on making me laugh at your pain. Where does that fit in with the seven deadlies?
Yesterday, my three-year-old demanded to know when it would snow here. “Never sweetie”, I said.
“Awwwwww!” She moaned, making her “you’re ripping me off” face.
Anyone who would insist that THAT is good weather for a skirt—needs a bracing slap.
Thank you for the laughs of the day.
We used to live in western Oregon, where it rained a lot, but snow only would “stick” on the ground (without melting at once) about three winters in six years.
California has earthquakes, but my mental picture of your shoveling difficulties is hilarious.
Again, thank you
TeaPot562
We actually broke down last week and bought a snowblower that we can’t really afford. Even though we just moved over the border into NH, there was significantly more snow here than 3 towns away in MA where we came from. We have a parking lot, not a driveway. We tried to shovel and just couldn’t make the heavy, wet snow go anywhere. My DH couldn’t find his hat and wore a hat knitted to look like r2d2, which is a great hat, but not what he wanted all the neighbors to see him wearing. I guess he needs to work on his pride.
I guess I can’t complain. I mean, I only had to scrape off a little bit of ice from my car a couple of times last week, and that’s only because I had to leave early for work. The ice usually melts away by 8:30 AM. And for that, I love sunny Southern California. Ahhh. :-)
Jealous?
Where I live I don’t have those abovementioned problems. My state is near tropical a great deal of the year. My daily concern is having to use public transportation (because no car). Buses run every hour and it tries one’s patience to have to wait around another hour if you miss one. Be careful in shoveling in bitter cold. It could be risky.
Posted by antigon on Thursday, Jan 3, 2013 2:05 PM (EDT):Well, if you were wearing a proper skirt, *that* would be what would fall down instead of your pants!”
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Here’s more info than you need on that subject: I live in the Deep South where, thankfully, snow is almost unknown.But many years ago I lived in the Southern Appalachians where it snows heavily.I don’t wear “britches” was too broke to buy maternity underwear,& was too far along to fit into anything else, so I had to make my way out to the barn to feed critters through 2-3 feet of snow wearing nothing under my denim jumper or above my rubber boots.The feeling of snow on bare skin from knee to waist isn’t something you forget easily.
I know you didn’t ask.
:)
So. Stinkin’. Funny.
I actually like to shovel snow…for some of those reasons…
plus It gets me some peace and quiet (or it used to).
My 3 year old demanded that I make it snow last week…he just doesn’t understand that I don’t control the weather : )
Definitely need a new hat (but I think we need the R2D2 one in this house).
Snowfall intimates death.
Unless I can induce my (7 year old) sons to work snow shovels
(without killing each other)
(or me)
(or landing us all in jail).
Love it,love it. Thanks for the great read. I’m sitting here laughing to myself. I needed this today.
Oh, my dear. I am so sorry. The kids and i were sick from Christmas to New Year’s and that’s only 3 of us. But thanks for the laughs. And prayers for your healing and helpful doctors.
The comments are almost as good as you. I guess you’ve got us regulars well trained.
Live in the tropics.. Always wanted to experience snow… Not so sure if I want to anymore… :P
But seriously I have experienced shoveling though… Hard clay soil…. Shovelling is hard backbreaking work!
So how does one work on one’s virtues when one has a wonderful husband who does the majority of the snow-moving chores? :-) We didn’t get as much in our part of NH as other parts did, but it was enough for him to have the snowblower out a few times and for me to remind the children (from the warmth of our living room) what a terrific dad they have!
I am knitting a hat RIGHT NOW, and it’s yours. Free. Because Hello Kitty should be reserved for Pez dispensers and pencil cases.
I don’t get all these comments by parents who shovel their own driveways. Isn’t this what kids are for? Isn’t this why stores sell pint-size shovels? Being near the top of 8 siblings, I was shoveling driveways, cooking dinner, and preparing tax returns by 4th grade, with the occasional store run for more bon-bons for my mother when supply ran low. Don’t you know how the pecking order goes? You wait for the top half of your brood to reach an age where they are useful, and then have them raise the lower half and maintain the home. Saturday mornings, you go out to run errands, and the older kids convince the younger kids that it would be a big surprise to clean the house for mom before she gets home (yes I fell for this EVERY SINGLE SATURDAY). Now you all go get manicures and relax.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rcsb-ogb2rY
So I sent my friend who makes her living as a book editor the link to this post because it was so funny. She wants me to start writing, like you do, about my life, but I don’t think I can be half as funny as you. So she said I should just tell myself, “WWSS: What would Simcha say?”
@Sarah Webber: That’s the beautiful part. Nobody has any idea what Simcha will say until she finally does. :)
I’m in IL and we have had NO snow for the second year running. The year before that it was covering the windows on one side of the house. Sort of miss it, but now that I think about the fact that I’m in my 3rd trimester with my 3rd baby…definitely in no position to shovel.
I’m seriously thinking of bidding on the “Hello Kitty” chapeau. As an investment it’s got to rank up there with Jackie O’s inaugural ball gown, or Dorothy’s red slippers. Better yet, how about the famous Fisher Flash Drive, with odd snippets and ideas for stories, erstwhile 4th grade science projects, and backups of business reports? But someday, a literary detective will go through the Fisher Family personal effects, come up with the missing belt from this story, and prove conclusively who absconded with it. There are 10 possibilities, but are the odds all even?
“Snow Angels” Jan 3, 2013
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