Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Last Tuesday the tri-state area was plummeted with an average of seven inches of snow. Given what’s going on in New York right now, I know that seems miniscule, but for Cincinnati, that’s a blizzard. In typical Cincinnati style, the whole city nearly shut down. A snow emergency was called, schools closed, businesses let out early, people were absolutely freaking out.

My parents are definitely on the fanatical side when it comes to weather-related issues. I think part of that comes from being a Cincinnatian, I think the other part comes from the scale of our side of town, which is appropriately named “Western Hills.” I grew up on a street that is at the bottom of a huge hill. To make matters worse, people park on both sides of this very narrow street, even during snow emergencies. Only one car can go up or down at one time, which makes room for error during snowstorms very, very small. In fact, an ex-boyfriend of mine suffered three car accidents in one winter on that street. One snowy Valentine’s Day he tried to be proactive by parking at the top of the hill to avoid another winter collision. He walked all of the way down to my house in the blustery weather to see me. When he returned to where he had parked, his car was a good 10-feet further than where he had left it. Apparently another car had slid in the snow and totaled his car. Luckily they left him a note.

My parents still live in this winter-unfriendly neighborhood. Three years ago my husband and I built a house on a street almost as difficult. Our house sits atop of a very, very steep hill. A significant snowfall pretty much leaves both my family and my parents stranded until the plows come through. Because my father was terrified of not being able to make it home from my house on the day of this latest storm, I left work around 1:30pm, about an hour after the first flakes of snow fell. I thought I would make it home before the roads got too bad, but snow was falling at about one to two inches per hour and accumulating quickly. My normally 30-minute commute took me two and a half hours. I called my dad from the road and told him to bring the girls to the neighbor’s house because I knew he’d never make it home if he waited for me.

By the time I got to our neighborhood, our roads were pretty treacherous. You first have to go down a big hill and then immediately go up the even bigger hill. Because I went down the first hill too slowly, I didn’t have enough speed to make it up the monstrous second. I made it maybe five-feet up and then my wheels just started spinning. I reversed back down the hill and back up the first as much as I could, gunned it, and made a run up the second hill. Through a lot of sliding and spinning, I eventually reached the top of the hill to my house.

My husband made it home about a half hour later. Apparently a lot of cars were getting stuck all over our hill, so he put on a few layers of clothing, grabbed a shovel, and walked down to help people up the hill. See what an incredible guy I married?? He arrived back home about an hour and a half later, cold, exhausted, and covered in snow from head-to-toe. Instead of feeling fulfilled for his work as a Good Samaritan and friendly neighbor, he returned feeling very aggravated and frustrated. He said most of the people he helped were pushy, inappreciative, and exhibited entitlement to his help. Most did not thank him for going out of his way or even give him the grateful “wave.” They acted as if he should be there, that he was the hired help or something.

One woman, whose car had slid sideways and was stuck on the hill, was on her cell phone when my husband approached her to help. She kept putting her finger up to him, ignoring him when he was trying to ask if he could help her. She eventually rolled her window down just a crack and said, Hold on, I’m on the phone with my husband trying to see what I should do. My husband replied, How about I push you up? I’m here. She just rolled her window up and continued to talk on the phone, acting as if my husband were a bother.

I tried to remind him that most of the people he helped were probably freaked out because of being stuck in the snow and didn’t mean to be rude. They were preoccupied with the current crisis, and by the time they were freed, they were probably too far from him to thank him. He said he wasn’t looking for thanks, he was just very surprised by some of the neighbors’ superior and condescending attitude towards him when he was there volunteering to help!

The next afternoon I got a call from my neighbor who lives across the street, asking who was shoveling our driveway. Because my husband had been so busy helping the neighbors on the night of the snowstorm, he hadn’t had a chance to shovel our own driveway. The question bewildered me because both my husband and I were at work, and my kids were at my parents’ house that day. I asked my neighbor to peek outside again to see if she recognized the person. She said the person was very bundled up but that he looked like another neighbor who lived about six houses down from us. This neighbor’s wife happened to be one of those that my husband had pushed up the hill during the snowstorm. She had actually called my husband that night when she got home to thank him.

When we got home, we found our driveway completely cleared as well as our sidewalk, which must have taken at least an hour or so. We looked for a note or a message from the good-deeder, but found nothing. My husband called the neighbor we suspected and said, It seems the Snow Shoveling Fairy visited our house today. Do you know anything about that?”Our neighbor replied, I might know a little something about that. He said he shoveled our driveway and sidewalk in appreciation for helping his wife up the hill during the storm. What was most wonderful about this token of appreciation was the neighbor attempted to do so anonymously, without any credit whatsoever.

In the following days, we received several bags of homemade cookies and treats from other appreciative neighbors that my husband had helped that day. And while my husband certainly didn’t need this recognition, it fully restored his faith in neighborly kindness. Tonight we are supposed to get hit with another snowstorm, and I’m sure my husband will be out in the trenches again, digging out what we both now know are wonderful neighbors. I have no doubt in my mind he’d be doing the same even if he had never gotten the cookies, treats, or snow-shoveling courtesy. This time he’ll just remember that if the stranded motorists seem curt or rude at the time, it’s just the inborn Cincinnatian snow-phobia talking.

Star Light

A couple of nights ago, my daughter was looking out the window and said she saw a star. Given the weather and time of year, I was sure what she saw was actually a plane, but I didn't correct her. I watched her as she quietly whispered,

Star light

Star bright

First star I see tonight

I wish I may

I wish I might

Have this wish I wish tonight.

I then asked what she wished. At first she wouldn't tell me, saying that if she did, it wouldn't come true. I told her that that rule didn't apply to mommies and daughters.

So she looked at me proudly and excitedly said, Mommy, I wished it was spring.

Boy, did I share her sentiment, but one day later we were hit with seven inches of snow. Yeah, that "star" was definitely an airplane. Thanks for trying, sweetie.