I’ve long had this ‘feeling? that somehow, some way, I hold ‘sway? over Old Man Winter. It’s like I have this uncanny power (dare I say super natural?) that affects the winter weather.
I know, it’s weird. Right?
These ‘powers? didn’t manifest themselves to me until about three or four years ago. I don’t know if I was struck in the head by falling icicles, or fell through the ice into a pond filled with radioactive water ? I don’t know how these ‘powers? came to me. I just came to believe they did.
First, I have always shoveled snow. Since I was a lad old enough to hold a shovel, it was my job to make sure the 100-foot long, inclined driveway from Clarkston Road to the garage was cleared, so the old man could make it up. Then, about three or four years ago, while shoveling the snow at my home at five in the morning, I had a thought.
‘I could die of a heart attack from shoveling all this snow, fall into the snow bank I just made and nobody would know I died until they saw my corpse when the snow melts.?
I went, shelled out hundreds of dollars and bought a snowblower at the end of that snow season. Time, as it often does, passed. The next winter season came and we (you, me — all of us in these parts) barely had snow. I used the snowblower once, maybe twice, just to run it.
Next winter, same thing. Maybe the lack of snow was only because I had a snowblower. ‘Hmm,? thought I, ‘Is there really a correlation here??
Then, we had last winter, and the belief was cemented down. I was ready for the snow, and it snowed. And, it snowed. And, it snowed some more until we had almost 100 inches of snow. And, I had to shovel all hundred inches of it because my snowblower was on the fritz. It was then I realized the awesome Power of Don! It was all my fault!
I was born to shovel snow.
I was supposed to shovel snow.
Every time I tried to alter how I fit into The Cosmos ? like attempting to use a snowblower ? The Cosmos countered. Working snow blower, no snow. Lots of snow, no snowblower. A universal tit for my tat, if you will. Once I figured that out, I (your hero) could counter that counter. It was just a matter of strategy.
From last winter until this winter, I planned. I thought. I strategized and re-strategized. I would need a working snowblower.
First, I tried fixing it myself. Took it a part, cleaned out the little carburetor jet thingies and fuel bowl. It worked for a bit, then conked out again, not to start. After three weeks worth of tinkering, I gave up. I took said snowblower to Brown’s Do-It Center in Goodrich.
‘Make it work,? was all I said. (I didn’t want to say too much to anyone, as not to spoil my plan to thwart Old Man Winter.) In a few days, and 30 bucks later, the repair man called.
‘I fixed your snow blower. It was a vacuum problem. I drilled a tiny hole in the gas cap and you’re good to go,? said he.
That was at the end of October. By mid-January, I secretly smiled to myself. Up until SuperAwesome Bowl Sunday, we hadn’t really had any snow. An inch here, a couple of inches there. It was so little, and easy to shovel I could do it with only one hand. My theory was proving to be true. The Power of Don could have an effect on winter’s weather!
But doubt is a cruel mistress.
As the weatheralarmistcasters started crying about amount of snow we were supposed to get on February 1 and 2, I started to get nervous. Doubt started to creep into and weaken my resolve.
Gulp.
If my ‘power? was true, and we were getting lots of snow, that meant The Cosmos was countering my counter of their counter, and that would mean my fixed snowblower would magically be not fixed.
‘Damn, the gods!? I wailed aloud, as the snow pelted my upturned face.
I shoveled morning, afternoon and night on Super Bowl Sunday. I justified my actions, thusly: If I keep up on the snow, shovel often, I won’t have to shovel hard. Inwardly I knew, however: I didn’t want to test The Power of Don. I was scared to be mortal. I didn’t want to be just ‘normal.?
I woke up at five, Monday morning. I putzed around the house, fed the cats and by 5:30 finally worked up enough courage to walk out to the driveway. Dang. Snowdrifts up to my knees on the entire length of the drive and on the sidewalks in front of the house. I first grabbed my shovel, then laid it back up against the house. ‘Man-up, Rush.?
I pulled out the snowblower, engaged the choke, pressed the red primer button about seven times, took a breath of frigid eight degree air and pulled the start cord.
Nothing. I pulled again and again, nothing.
On the one hand I was happy my ‘power? was true.
On the other, I was not looking forward to shoveling three feet of drifted snow for hours before heading to the office.
I sighed and pulled a fourth time. It sputtered then started, and worked like a champ. In an hour-and-a-half, I finished the drive, the sidewalk and proved the Universe is smarter than Don Rush.
Like footballs from New England, my ego was deflated. I hold no sway over Old Man Winter. (But I wonder if I could charm Mother Nature into something?)