When I awoke this morning in my bed on the Northwest Side of Chicago, it was to find that between four and five inches of snow had fallen overnight. The picture above was taken from my living room window.
It’s still snowing heavily and at least an inch has fallen since I rose. Besides writing this post I’m girding my loins to walk the dogs. Smidge and Kara would be fine without a walk—they’re indoor girls at heart—but Nola simply won’t eliminate without a walk. In a few minutes I’ll be trudging through that.
Through the window right now I can see Mr. Tran, my neighbor across the street, shoveling the street. I think he must be the hardest-working man I have ever known. Not only does he shovel his own walks and the street in front of his house but helps his neighbors shovel theirs.
My next step after walking the dogs will be shoveling the walk in front my house and, perhaps, shoveling out our cars. It’s better to shovel four inches now and two or three later than it would be to try to shovel the entire snowfall at once.
It will be an interesting Super Bowl Sunday. Those who’ve already planned to curl themselves up at home are all set. Those who’ve planned to attend Super Bowl parties may reconsider or we may be hearing about a lot of spinouts and fender benders on the roads.
A cold view out your living room window of the Chicago reflecting the weather you are experiencing. My husband’s grandfather was born in Chicago, and this morning he was saying it must have been freezing at that time of the month — his birthday being today. I then showed him your photo, and he smiled, saying it was probably weather just like that which welcomed his grandfather into the world!
Snow should be seen not felt, and the, rarely. You can have it. The best weather I ever found was at Camp Pendleton. It is along the beach between Los Angeles and San Diego. There is little rain, and the temperatures are not that bad.
We use wee pads for our hounds. When they were little (chihuahua puppies), we took them outside, and they would come back in soaked from the dew. We are all indoor dogs now – me most of all.
For the Shaw household today oddly feels like New Year’s Day, a day of transition.
Yesterday my Grandmother (age 97) passed away. Her condition had deteriorated in almost all respects the last four years, and I’d not visited her in two. The best part of that visit was that she didn’t know who I was, the worst was she thought I was laughing at her situation or running some sort of con. I happened to be cleaning out some old cards and letters earlier this week, and I would like to remember her from those times. She was my last surviving grandparent.
Yesterday also marked the final dissolution of my partnership, and tomorrow I begin as a solo practitioner. Scared and excited, with banker’s boxes of client files stacked wherever I can find space. How do people live without basements?
And the kids are preparing to move-on. The oldest starts high school next year, which has in turn instituted discussions about college. The youngest just choose his middle school for next year. We will be taking them to their first funeral this week.
Oh yeah, and I own a freakin’ cell phone now. Is the world happy?
Condolences on your loss, PD. At 97 death is hardly unexpected but that doesn’t make it any less a loss. There’s something I heard once that I think is appropriate. Every person’s death is like burning down a library. When dementia is in the picture it’s as though the library had been abandoned and looted over a period of years, possibly even harder to bear.
A propos of your remark about basements, when I was sorting through my mother’s things after she died I came across box after box of papers in the rafters of her garage. I went through them and read every single thing.
Many had clearly been taken from my grandmother’s home after her death and that was approaching three quarters of a century ago. Clearly, my dad had thrown them into the garage of our first house, moved them to the garage of the house in which my mother lived for a half century before her death, and after his death they just sat there until I found them.
Count your blessings, PD. All but one of my grandparents had died before I was born and I only met that one a couple of times before she died and that was when I was very small. I never had any kind of relationship with any grandparent. Additionally, I only met one of their siblings—my mom’s Uncle Ed. Until I began my geneaological research I didn’t know that most of them had existed.
It’s still snowing here and hasn’t stopped since I wrote this post. I’d guess we have 8-9 inches at this point. That’s a pretty stiff snowfall by Chicago standards.
I’m going out to shovel again (round 3).
My condolences PD. I’m reminded of my own grandparents – at least the ones I remember, since the last one died when I was a boy.
For spring break this year we are headed back home for a week to see my Dad who turns 90 in March. His mind is going ever more quickly and Dave’s point that every person’s death is like burning down a library is true is more than one sense.
Dave,
I really don’t like Florida much and am looking forward to, eventually, moving back west. However, days like today are wonderful – 70 degrees, a cool breeze off the ocean, a hike with the kids followed by a glass of wine and a good book in the winter sun on the patio. I sometimes miss a warm fire with the snow outside, but not today.
Condolences PD. Way too many stressors at once. Best of luck with the new practice.
Steve
Sorry to hear about your grandmother, PD. Deaths of one’s family members, no matter the age, bring on somber reflections that every life does have it limits.
Also, like Steve mentioned, you’re going through a number of changes, making everything seem just a little more tentative and off-balance for a while. The best to you in the near future.