(Not) Playing 'Possum

Yesterday was a hot day in Southern Indiana. When I left work just before 5 o’clock, the thermometer in my car said 101 degrees. That was artificially high – the car had been sitting in the sun all day. By the time I got home 10 minutes later, it was reading 93 degrees. That was a much more accurate reading.

Now summer heat is a relative thing. For the 15 years we lived in Memphis, a 90 degree day was nothing unusual…unless it occurred in April. Here in Indiana, though, it’s a different story. Last summer we did not have one day where the temperature reached 90. This year, we’ve already had a handful…with more on the way.

While in Memphis, I developed a summer survival skill - I refused to complain about the heat. I figured that complaining did nothing to lower the temperature and only raised my awareness of how uncomfortable I was. For most of the time we were there, I told people I actually liked the hot weather. (In hindsight, this may have been the cause of some the the suspicious sideways looks I got from many of my acquaintances.)

After nearly 7 years in Indiana, I still don’t complain about the heat. I like the climate here. We have four complete seasons. In the fall the foliage is usually spectacular, especially in nearby Brown County. Most winters we get enough snow to enjoy the holidays. (Granted, this last winter was the extreme case.) This year’s spring was a roller coaster – very warm in April, then cool through May and into June. Summer seems to start suddenly – we go from cool, pleasant days to HOT almost overnight.

But it’s nothing to complain about.

So yesterday we got home after another mind-numbing week at work. I sat inside for a few minutes and checked emails til Mary got home. Despite the heat, we both ended up outside. After being cooped up in our respective offices all week, it felt pretty good to piddle around in the yard for awhile. Mary watered her gardens and trimmed the roses.


One of Mary's beautiful roses. 

I got out the rake and worked at de-thatching the front lawn. I had no illusions about doing the whole thing…just wanted to get a start. It was also a very restful, almost meditative, thing to do – repetitive and mindless in the sense that it required no conscious thought, yet occupied the mind enough to push out all thought of work, deadlines, and meetings.

After 20 minutes or so, I had done a couple passes down the side yard, and had several piles of dead grass to mark my progress. Mary came around and told me to clean up and move out, so she could start the sprinkler. I’d had enough meditation, so I did as instructed. I filled a trash can with the dead grass and carried it around to the compost pile in the back yard. I dumped the grass and turned back to the house, idly thinking of sipping a gin-and-tonic on the back porch while the world cooled off into evening.

As I passed by the corner of the back porch, I was jolted out of my reverie by the sight of an unexpected guest.


An unexpected visitor. 

I don’t know where this critter came from…and I’m sure he must have been wondering “how the heck did I get here?!” I yelled at Mary to come take a look, then ran in for the camera. I kept my distance, not certain of how fast a startled ‘possum could move. (In the back of my mind I was reviewing all the data I had about ‘possums – 100% of it involved memories of dead ones on the side of the road. Not much evidence of agility or speed, but I wasn’t going to take any chances, especially since I saw him raise up and arch his back as I approached. How far could a ‘possum jump?)

We eyed each other for a few minutes. He made no effort to leave the porch. It was, after all, the end of a long, hot Friday. Mary and I left him on the ledge and went in for the gin-and-tonic. Periodically throughout the evening we looked out to see if “Peter Possum” was still around. He was always in the same spot. Around 9pm we saw him, then went out front to turn off the sprinklers. When we looked again, he was gone.

We walked around the yard, shining a flashlight into the bushes, but didn’t see him again. I guess ‘possums can move pretty quick after all.

Remembering Daisy

It's only Tuesday, but it's been a tough week under the Roof. On Monday afternoon we had Daisy put to sleep.


Relaxing in the kitchen. 

Daisy first came to live with us at Christmas time in 1989. We were celebrating our first Christmas in a new home in Memphis. The kids were all in school, and Mary and I spent several days searching all over West Tennessee for a cocker spaniel puppy.

After what seemed like an endless string of fruitless phone calls, we got connected with a family 50 miles outside of Memphis who had an 8 week old parti-colored female. I agreed to buy her sight unseen, and to meet them in the parking lot of a McDonald's at a specified time on Sunday evening. This coincided with the annual Christmas Eve service at our church, and we concocted an elaborate story involving a family friend, a flat tire, and an immediate need for help that would allow me to excuse myself from the family for a couple of hours. I drove to the rendezvous point in my MGB convertible with a failing clutch and weak headlights. At one point I got pulled over by the state police for going too slow on the Interstate.

I found the seller in the parking lot, as agreed, and quickly made the transaction. It was completed quickly, under the street lamp, with few words and a swift exchange of cash and small furry bundle. It seemed more like a drug deal than buying a pet. I could tell I was buying a dog, but little else. The sellers promised to send the AKC papers later. Being young and anxious, I believed them.

The puppy slept soundly during the cold ride home, bundled up in a blanket on the passenger seat. I arrived home after the rest of the family, and tucked the sleeping puppy under my coat. I entered the house and answered the questions about our stranded friend, then told the kids to come into the den. I can't recall what exactly I said, but remember lots of delighted screaming as the puppy emerged from my coat.

Daisy grew up with our kids, especially Will. She ran with him in the yard and around the neighborhood. If there was a pack of kids racing through the yard, Daisy would be in the middle of it, happily nipping at Will's heels.

She was the third, and smartest, cocker spaniel we have owned. Mary delighted in teaching her new tricks. Daisy could balance a dog biscuit on her nose, pensively waiting for the command "SIC IT!" that allowed her to flip it in the air and catch it on the way down. She could roll over, shake hands, and "speak" on command. The most elaborate trick they learned was a political joke. Mary would point a finger, like a gun, at Daisy and ask loudly, "Would you rather be a dead dog or a Republican?" Daisy would flatten herself on the floor, in her best Democratic pose.

In her later years, Daisy endured Mary's interest in costuming.


Do I have to wear this silly outfit? 

As smart as she was, Daisy was a mediocre watchdog. A stranger could come into the house unannounced, and she would just as likely wag her tail and pee on the floor as bark at him. But every afternoon when I arrived home from work, she would howl and bark like she had never seen me. I suppose she was just greeting me enthusiastically.

The years since have flown by. The kids are grown. Two have graduated from college and moved on. Will is now 18 and college-bound in the fall. Daisy grew up with them, and grew old before them. She lost her hearing about two years ago. We noticed it gradually. At first, we would be inside the house for several minutes before she would hear us and come out of whatever room she was sleeping in, looking slightly embarrassed. Later, we would have to wake her to let her know we were home.

In the last year and a half, her health declined even further. First her eyes went, becoming increasingly cloudy. Her sense of smell seemed to decrease, making it harder to find the biscuits dropped at her feet. She slept most of the day, and emerged ever more slowly and unsteadily. Her kidneys failed her.

Sadly, it was time. We made one appointment at the vet, then cancelled it when we thought there was improvement. We went another two months, then found her sitting disoriented in the dining room one afternoon. We made another appointment, and agreed that we would not cancel again.

Monday noon came and our appetites waned. The appointment was for 1:30pm. Mary fed Daisy some extra treats - a hamburger for breakfast, some ham at lunch, extra biscuits. We drove to the vet's office, Daisy in Mary's car with all the windows down, the spring air blowing across her nose stuck prominently out of the rear window. They walked around the yard outside the office while I attended to the paperwork. Then it was time.

It was mercifully quick for Daisy, but interminable for us. We swung at opposite ends of the spectrum - Mary weeping quietly until the final moment, while I stood stoic. Me dissolving in tears as I saw her lifeless on the table, while Mary felt a wash of relief. (We have lived together for nearly 30 years and have managed a dynamic balance - only one of us gets to be crazy at a time.)

Today the house feels empty. We are happy that Daisy is out of her misery, and was able to go out with some dignity. But we miss our puppy. I trust that soon the empty spot will slowly be filled with good memories, of a happy dog chasing dirt clods pitched in the garden and kids in the front yard.

Two Old Pals:

Two old pals. 

Cowgirl Daisy:

Cowgirl Daisy in full costume. 

Talking Ourselves Into Another War?

Today's Top Story:
At the time of this posting, 1485 US soldiers have died in Iraq.
Source: http://icasualties.org/oif/

(Why is this "The Top Story"?

1. Each of these soldiers died in a war that was initiated by a President who intentionally misled the American people about the reasons for war in Iraq, (and
2. Like Gen. Anthony Zinni, I believe that this has got to be more important than "American Idol").

Today's Feature: Talking Ourselves Into Another War?

It's been awhile since I did a posting. My last one did not include the casualty statistics. After the election in Iraq, I was cautiously hopeful. (Unlike my sense after the election in America...) I wanted to believe that progress was being made. That maybe a good end result was possible. I heard Bill Maher on NPR's "Fresh Air" on February 8 talking about how we react to news about Bush & Co. His point...and I'm going to butcher it...was that we cannot listen to any news about Iraq, the administration, etc. and immediately try to figure out why we disagree. Sometimes we have to recognize that there are good outcomes, and we need to support these. We have to be smart enough to separate the positive events in the world from the political agendas that might have influenced them.

A very challenging point of view, but one I'm trying to adopt.

Now tell that to Mary, who had to listen to one of the longest streams of profanity I have ever uttered as I listened to the NBC Nightly News tonight. The story centered on how Iran has become our "enemy" and how President Bush was in Europe rounding up support for this position.

Did I miss something important? When did Iran become our "enemy"? (I'm obviously ignoring the "Axis of Evil" comments from the past. This might be a big mistake.)

Are we at odds with Iran on a number of issues? Yes. Would we prefer that they do not develop nuclear weapons? Absolutely.

But the rhetoric being used today, even by Brian Williams on the Nightly News, suggests that we are about to repeat the collective rethinking we did before the invasion of Iraq. We literally talked ourselves into that war. The politicians drove it. The media bought it. Colin Powell sold it at the UN. "Weapons of mass destruction" became the mantra...and the justification...even though they didn't exist!

If you tell the lie enough times, people will believe it. The march to Iraq proved it. Maybe some good will become of that effort. I remain hopeful and optimistic. (Read "pollyanna"?) But I'm also suspicious of the political/media machine. We haven't yet absorbed the cost (financial and human) of our excursion into Iraq. Why do we need to pick the next fight already?

Pay close attention to the news reports for the next 3 months. I'll bet you twenty dollars that we'll hear more and more about what a "grave threat to the national security" Iran represents. We'll hear George Bush and Dick Cheney and Condoleeza Rice opine about the "moolahs" and the "nucular" weapons. I'll bet we'll see the national threat warning level (whatever it's called) raised and some more news about "non-specific Interet chatter" that implies an imminent threat to our national security.

Our national leaders will promote an invasion of Iran, and our media will fall in line, looking for headlines and an opportunity to score an exclusive interview.

Here's the only scenario I can imagine where I would support an invasion of Iran: The US military forces crossing the Iran border are led by new recruits Jenna and Barbara Bush (G-dub's twin daughters) and our forces follow the troops deployed by France and Germany.

The Tale of a New Sagamore

Dear Friends and Family,

This started out as a lengthy email. I decided to post it as a blog, so I could include some photos and links without overwhelming your inboxes.

Our daughter Sarah joined the staff of then Indiana governor Frank O'Bannon as a "Governor's Fellow" shortly after she graduated from Indiana University in 2003.


2003-2004 Governor's Fellows (L-R) Aaron Smith- Indiana Univeristy; Stacey Martindale, Indiana University; Sarah Johnston, Indiana University; Emily Jones, Purdue University and Matthew Ewing, Indiana University (from http://www.in.gov/gov/fellowship/snapshots.html )



Sarah and the other Fellows (and most of us Hoosiers) were shocked and saddened by Governor O'Bannon's untimely death in September, 2003. Joe Kernan, the Lieutenant Governor under Gov. O'Bannon, was sworn in as Governor, and the state moved forward under new leadership.


The Fellows with Governor Kernan.

Joe Kernan is a native of South Bend, Indiana. He was a Navy pilot in Viet Nam and was shot down in 1972 and spent 11 months in a POW camp. After repatriation, he completing his service and returned home. After several years in business, he entered public service as the controller of South Bend. He served three terms as mayor of South Bend before being elected Lt. Governor in 1996 alongside Frank O'Bannon. He is a man of tremendous character and integrity. I'm delighted that my daughter had the opportunity to serve under him.

A sidebar: One of Governor Kernan's first official acts was to nominate Kathy Davis as the new Lieutenant Governor. Lt. Gov. Davis had a degree in engineering from MIT and an MBA from Harvard. She originally came to Indiana to work at Columbus-based Cummins Engine Company in the 1980's and later gravitated to public service. We saw this as one more affirmation of the innate intelligence found in the midwest: In the same month that California elected a swaggering body-builder as their new governor, Indiana's General Assembly unanimously confirmed one of the most intelligent, articulate people you'd ever want to meet as Lieutenant Governor. Sorry, California. We got the better deal!

Governor Kernan initially said he would not seek reelection, but after several months in office, changed his mind and announced his candidacy. The Fellows cheered...along with a lot of Hoosiers. In her off-hours, Sarah was an active campaigner for the Kernan/Davis ticket. But during business hours, she was rigidly non-partisan. As interested bystanders, we were impressed by the message that was drilled into the consciousness of the state government staff by the Governor: "We are here to serve all citizens of Indiana, regardless of their political affiliation. Don't forget!" Our discussions with Sarah's friends and colleagues confirmed that this was part of their DNA. Even in the midst of a contentious election year, they embraced and lived out their mission to serve all Hoosiers.

Unfortunately, Joe lost the election, and this coming Sunday will be his last day in office.

For the past several months, Sarah has been working in the Governor's Residence, a beautiful home and meeting center in a fine old Indianapolis neighborhood. Her final assignment as a Fellow was as an assistant to Maggie Kernan, our First Lady. This past summer, after she completed her year as a Fellow, Sarah was selected to be the first Director of Mentor Indiana, a program initiated by Mrs. Kernan to recruit 1,000 adult volunteers to mentor disadvantaged middle school students. I had the privilege of meeting Mrs. Kernan when she and Sarah visited Columbus to recruit volunteers.


Sarah, Mrs. Kernan, and me in Columbus. 

I volunteered, of course.

Earlier this week, Sarah was working at home (her office in the residence was being transferred to a new building as part of the transition to a new governor, and her car was in the shop), when she got a phone call from the Governor's office asking her if she could come in, right now. This alarmed Sarah. She worried that, like many of her cohorts in government, she was about to get the axe as part of the regime change. She was quickly reassured -- "This is a good thing." When she said she'd have to take a cab, they replied, "We'll send a car for you". So she changed out of her jeans and waited for the ride...wondering what was going to happen next.

When she arrived at the Governor's residence, she was shown into one of the meeting rooms where the Governor, the First Lady, and a group of staff members had gathered. The governor called her to the front of the room and presented her with a certificate naming her a "Sagamore of the Wabash". The term "sagamore" was used by the American Indian Tribes of the northeastern United States to describe a lesser chief or a great man among the tribe to whom the true chief would look for wisdom and advice.


The official proclamation.


The text of the certificate reads as follows:

State of Indiana
Council of the Sagamores of the Wabash

Joseph E. Kernan
Governor of the State of Indiana
*******
Know All Men by These Presents:

WHEAREAS, the Greatness of the Sons and Daughters of Indiana derives, in part, from qualities possessed by the noble Chieftains of the Indiana Tribes which once roamed its domain; and

WHEREAS, it has been the immemorial custom of the State of Indiana to attract to its support those who have exhibited such qualities; and

WHEREAS, there has endeared herself to the Citizens of Indiana, one

Sarah Johnston

distinguished by her Humanity in Living, her Loyalty in Friendship, her
Wisdom in Council, and her Inspiration in Leadership:

NOW, THEREFORE, recognizing her greatness and desiring to avail myself of her counsel, I do hereby appoint her a Chieftain upon my Staff with the rank and title of

SAGAMORE of the WABASH

WITNESS my hand and Seal of the Council of the Sagamores, at Indianapolis, Indiana, this the Ninth day of January, in the Year of Our Lord, Two Thousand and Five.

Joseph E. Kernan
Governor of the State of Indiana

We just thought you'd like to know that we have a Chieftain in our family.

Congratulations, Sarah!


Mike/Pop & Mary/Mama

The Blizzard of "Ought-Four", Part 4.

Today's Top Story:
At the time of this posting, 1333 US soldiers have died in Iraq.
Source: http://icasualties.org/oif/

(Why is this "The Top Story"?

1. Each of these soldiers died in a war that was initiated by a President
who intentionally misled the American people about the reasons for war in Iraq, (and
2. Like Gen. Anthony Zinni, I believe that this has got to be more important than "American Idol").

Today's Feature: The Blizzard of "Ought-Four", Part 4.

Monday, December 27, 2004

7:30am: We awoke today to a cold, clear and brilliantly sunny morning. Outside the trees were coated with a shiny layer of hoarfrost. (While I had seen it before, I didn't know what hoarfrost was until I read about it in our local paper the next day. One more thing I've learned this week.)

I got outside quickly to get some pictures before it melted.


Hoarfroast on the Serenity Garden.



A brilliant view.


I walked down to the end of the street to get a shot of the early morning sun shining through the trees.


Sun through the trees.

As I walk back to the house, I feel invigorated by the cold and the sunshine. Maybe, I think, I can learn to like this winter thing.

11:00am: The street still hasn't been plowed, but we venture out anyway. The main streets are clear, but the stores are still packed. We buy our supplies and head back home.

5:00pm: Just at dusk the snowplow comes through the neighborhood. He works our streets for a couple of hours, methodically working back and forth.


Sunday, January 2, 2005

We've had 4 days of unseasonably warm weather. Today it was 55 degrees outside. The snow is almost completely melted. I even drug out the garden hose and washed the cars. Surprise - instead of two dull grey vehicles, we actually have a black one and a white one! Tomorrow the vacation ends and we go back to work. Life here is almost back to normal.

But we are very mindful that for hundreds of thousands of our neighbors on the other side of the planet, life will not be back to normal for years, if ever. An editorial page headline in our local paper this week put things in the proper context: "Tsunami makes our 'crisis' pale".

For a very immediate view of activities around the crisis - reported by a group of people close to the scene - see the South-East Asia Earthquake and Tsunami Blog. To make an online donation to one of the major relief agencies, visit http://www.google.com/tsunami_relief.html .

The Blizzard of "Ought-Four", Part 3.

Today's Top Story:
At the time of this posting, 1324 US soldiers have died in Iraq.
Source: http://icasualties.org/oif/ No change for the last 3 days. A very welcome development.

(Why is this "The Top Story"?

1. Each of these soldiers died in a war that was initiated by a President who intentionally misled the American people about the reasons for war in Iraq, (and
2. Like Gen. Anthony Zinni, I believe that this has got to be more important than "American Idol").

Today's Feature: The Blizzard of "Ought-Four", Part 3.


Friday, December 24, 2004

7:45 am: We get up for the pets and are discouraged to look out the front windows and see no change in the street. Mary sees our neighbor Bill outside shoveling the distance between the base of his driveway and the track in the middle of the street. A bit later, I call next door and ask Bill if he has heard when our street will be plowed. He replies that he saw a private vehicle with a plow go down our street the previous evening around 6:00pm. It cleared a single lane on our street only – did not touch the side streets. He’s not sure why this happened, but we agree that it’s probably the best we’re going to see for awhile. He has already dug out to the path. That will be my next task. We need to get out to buy a few groceries.

I spend an hour or so digging out the last 10 feet from the base of our driveway to the plowed track. It’s not very difficult since I’ve finally figured out which shovel to use when. We have an ergonomic snow shovel, with a curved handle and a deep bucket. It’s great for scooping the top layers. It allows you to lift and pitch the snow with your arms and shoulders – sparing your back – but isn’t much good down close to the pavement. The other snow shovel has a straight handle and shallow, flat blade – good for digging the last couple inches close to the ground. I also use a standard square-blade shovel from my garden tools – great for breaking up packed snow and ice.


The last 10 feet. 

It is a beautiful day, even if the temperature refuses to top 10 degrees. A sunny winter day in Indiana is rare!


Clear and cold. 

12:00noon: We head out to run errands. Our macro plan is to go to the grocery store across from the drug store with a good wine selection. Before or after, depending on traffic, we’ll also hit a bank to make a deposit. Once we’re out of our neighborhood, we find most streets plowed, packed, and passable – and being thoroughly tested by everybody else in town who’d been cooped up at home for a couple of days. We ditch the idea of going to the bank and head straight for the grocery. The parking lot is bounded by huge piles of plowed snow. (We’ve heard that the city is trucking snow out of the downtown area because there is no place let to park it. It’s later in the day before we get a newspaper delivered and can verify this story. It’s true.) The parking lot is bumper-to-bumper. We find a spot far away from both destinations and agree to split up. Mary will do the grocery shopping. I will go to the drug store and select the wine, then will catch up with Mary at the grocery check out.

We find long lines in both stores, and expect to encounter short tempers and rude clerks. Surprisingly, in both stores the cashiers are friendly and cheerful, almost amused by the scene unfolding before them.

1:00pm: We get home and put away the groceries, then lay out lunch. The girls arrive shortly after and report that they had no problem getting in from Indianapolis, except for a stretch around Whiteland where traffic slowed down to 20 to 25 mph. We have heard a report that traffic coming north on I-65 from Louisville is also limited to that speed. Imagine a 5 hour drive from Louisville to Indianapolis (100 miles).

Other news stories report on a number of people complaining that nobody rescued them when they were trapped in their cars in bumper-to-bumper stalled traffic during the blizzard. Given that the roads were impassable, and that ample warnings had been published telling people to stay home, I find it difficult to have much sympathy. I can, though, imagine how frightening it would have been, but remain dismayed by how irresponsible we can be…unable to take responsibility for our own actions, no matter how stupid. “C’mon kids, let’s ignore all the warnings, hop in the minivan and drive through blinding snow tonight.”

6:00pm: Katie makes a trip back to Greenwood (on the outskirts of Indy) for a party at the home of her boyfriend’s parents. She gets back home by 11, without incident. While she is gone, the rest of us enjoy a dinner of Steak Diane, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. Mary got the recipes from a new Cuisine magazine. It’s a tribute to Julia Child. Delicious! Bon appetit!


Steak Diane...prepared under the watchful eye of Chef Oscar 

10:30pm: The doorbell rings. It’s Will’s friend Max. When he got off work at the new Chili’s restaurant, he drove over to our neighborhood to see Will, but got his car stuck on a side street when he tried to turn around. We round up Will and several other friends and get Max unstuck, after helping another motorist who got stuck trying to avoid Max’ car. It’s nearly zero degrees outside. We work quickly. We need to get back inside before Santa comes….


Saturday, December 25, 2004 – Christmas Day.

No weather worries today. It was a day to stay indoors and celebrate with family.


What's better at Christmas than new slippers? 

Sunday, December, 26, 2004

7:30am: Will has to be at work at Fazoli’s this morning at 8:00am. Yesterday he dug a path to the street to get his car out. We hear him up and moving, and get up ourselves, expecting there might be a problem getting his car out of the driveway. Sure enough, he gets stuck in the middle of the street, blocking the exit of a couple of neighbors headed to early church services. They help us dig him out and get him back in the driveway. Two more tries later, and he is on his way to work and I’m headed back in for a first cup of coffee.

That sturdy old Mercedes Benz he bought is REALLY HEAVY!!

The local paper says that all street will be plowed by tomorrow morning. We’re hopeful it will happen during the day today so we can clean up after.

9:30pm: Street still has not been plowed. Guess we’ve got something to look forward to tomorrow.

The Blizzard of "Ought-Four", Part 2.

Today's Top Story:
At the time of this posting, 1324 US soldiers have died in Iraq.
Source: http://icasualties.org/oif/ No change from yesterday. A welcome development.

(Why is this "The Top Story"?

1. Each of these soldiers died in a war that was initiated by a President who intentionally misled the American people about the reasons for war in Iraq, (and
2. Like Gen. Anthony Zinni, I believe that this has got to be more important than "American Idol").

Today's Feature: The Blizzard of "Ought-Four", Part 2.

Thursday, December 23, 2004

7:00am: We woke up early (for a vacation day) this morning, but knew we would have a challenge taking care of the pets. Mary says the wind howled all night. It’s still dark, so we can’t tell how much snow fell overnight by looking out the upstairs window.

We head downstairs and let the pets out of their kennel. The morning routine for the dog is eat first, then go out. We set out the food and then open the front door to see how much snow we got. We are amazed to see a foot of snow packed up against the door and drifts shaped like gentle waves flowing across the front yard.

Mary says she’ll go out and dig out the crapatorium, but there is so much snow piled up against the door of the back porch that she can’t get out. She decides to go out through the side door of the garage and around the side of the house. A moment later she calls me – “Mike, come QUICK!” – and I find howling with laughter in the garage.

“Look at the imprint from the door!”


A big surprise at the garage door.

She steps over the packed snow and into the side yard. One step toward the back and she is in snow up to mid-thigh. Still laughing with amazement, she heads around to the back.


Mary getting in deep.

It takes several minutes for her to dig out a 5 foot round opening in the snow in the back yard. Then several more minutes to dig a path up to the porch door and get it to open. It’s almost too late: While I’m watching Mary’s progress through the back window, the dog squats next to me in the kitchen and prepares to relieve herself. I yell (which does no good – the old dog is deaf as a post) and poke her in the side (which gets her attention and stops nature in its tracks). Using dog sign language -- a combination of gestures: waving towards my chest, slapping my thigh – I manage to coax the dog out onto the back porch just as Mary gets the door freed. The dog is happy, as am I. We dodged a ..um… “bullet” that time….

Back inside, we flip on the tv and listen to the weathermen excitedly describe the overnight accumulation. Every few minutes they switch to some poor sucker who got the remote location assignment. They are set up at the outlet mall 5 miles from our house, right along I-65. It’s about 10 degrees outside. Traffic on the Interstate is reduced to a one-lane crawl. They say that Seymour, Indiana (25 miles south of us) got 18 inches of snow. I figure we got at least that much, further complicated by the drifts created by the overnight winds.

Mary says she heard we had “thunder snow” overnight. I’ve never heard of such a thing, but it’s clearly a week of firsts. I’ve never seen this much snow, either. We decide to focus on indoor activities for the morning. While it’s unlikely that the girls will be able to drive down from Indianapolis tonight as planned, we still need to finish cleaning the house, preparing the guest rooms, etc.

10:00am: The housecleaning done, I decide to start on the driveway and front walk. I take a minimalist approach with the front walk, clearing a shovel width up the walk to the front porch.


A different look for the entrance.

Before starting down the driveway, I stick a yardstick into the drift at the top of the drive. It shows 19”. The good news is that most of the drive has less than that. I take a couple deep breaths and plunge in. Yesterday, I wanted to get all three lanes of the driveway cleared. Today, I have much less ambition. One lane clear to the street will be an accomplishment.

Mary and Will both join me a little while later, and I’m glad for the help.


Two more shovelers...just in time!

Together it takes us til 11:30 to clear one lane down to the street. We don’t bother to try to dig out past the curb, figuring that the snow plow should be along sometime today (we hope!) and will cover the base of the driveway with its discharge. We know we’ll have to dig out again.


About 16" deep at the curb.

Will takes a photo of me and Mary before we head in for lunch.


"American Arctic"

2:00pm – After lunch I decide to get started on the other side of the driveway, where Will parks his car. That will leave only the middle lane with snow on it. Will comes out to help, and we get into a pretty good rhythm. After a few minutes, Will gets manic – probably from the music pumping into his brain from his MP3 player. He starts shoveling at high speed, flinging snow high into the air. After a few minutes of this, he looks back at me (I have retreated a safe distance so I’m not struck by flying snow…or flying snow shovels), grins, lets out a whoop, and leaps backward into the snow pile beside the driveway. I resist the urge to pitch a shovelful of snow on top of him.

Within 45 minutes we’ve cleared his lane down to the street.


Another lane clear.

Will heads back inside. I stay out for a while longer, working on the center lane, cutting a diagonal path that links to the lane we cleared this morning. Before going back inside, I peek around the side of the house and take a photo of the drifts against the wall.


Where did the A/C unit go?

The tracks in the snow mark Mary’s path from first thing this morning. Somewhere underneath the snow is the gas meter.

3:30pm: Back inside, I get a shower to warm up, then help Mary with the Christmas cookies. I get to help make the peanut butter mice.


Plenty of Christmas treats!

I also get to sample the others. Yum!

We hear from the girls in Indy. The parking lot at the condo has not yet been plowed. They can't get out.

6:15: We make the local news. Bartholomew County is mentioned as one of the “hardest hit areas”. We see aerial footage of snow-covered streets, cars in ditches, and the Interstate highway at a crawl. Our street has still not been plowed. But there’s no place we need to go tonight.