We had a bit of snow in the northeast over the weekend, enough to require shoveling and slow driving.  Enough, also, to cause delays in morning movement.  My Alaskan Malamute and I spent the snowstorm outside, running down fairways on the course through the woods and o’er the stream in my back yard.

He is a sight to see at those moments, an animal so perfectly suited by size, strength and stamina, to the task of running across fields of newly fallen snow.  We’re both old men now, but for one afternoon we were kids again, and it was glorious.

Anyway,  with roads impassable early, everything was just a little late getting started.  However, things did get started, and life went on almost as usual.  While there are lots of stories to relate on days like this, here are two that illustrate the polarity of people’s reactions to the day.

The young lady who delivers our paper before sunrise was late – - nothing unexpected, as the plows needed to precede her.  In fact, and as she told me, the papers were late coming to her in the first place, too.  She stopped to chat for a moment on her route – - I’m an early morning runner, even in “weather.”

She told me that some of her customers had called the local newspaper to complain about their paper delivery being late.  The circulation department had called her when the complaints came in, and passed on the messages.  She also told me that the complainants were elderly and retired each and every one of them.

Now, I’m not retired, but neither am I young, as I navigatie through my sixth decade.  So, I have no lack of credibility nor credentials to take off on the elderly, and I was appalled to hear of the complaints.  This nice lady was putting herself at some risk on the roads to deliver the daily news, and all those folks could think about was getting their paper on time – - as if they had to be somewhere important.

We wished each other a good day and safe journey, and I kept on running.  Around the corner, I ran into one of the young men who lives in the neighborhood as he was shoveling the driveway of an elderly lady – one of the good elderly, by the way.  We said our hellos, and I remarked how snow storms can be a source of quick cash for enterprising young men.

“Oh, I’m not getting paid for this.  She’s old, and can’t do this herself.  I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do for a neighbor,” he said.

The fellow was about sixteen years old, and even at that young age, he had a sense of community and charity that was impressive. Although faith in my fellow humans to do the right thing was not entirely restored, I was comforted in knowing that balance had been achieved in my little world.

He had put to shame those assclown elderly who wanted to know where their “damn paper” was, and the fleeting thought crossed my mind that there comes a time for folks to move on and make room for others on the planet.  It was fleeting because I’m not young myself, and certainly not ready to move on just yet.  But, jeepers, what could those old farts have had to do in their retirement that was more important than the paper lady’s safety in a snow storm?

I’ll be one of those old farts yelling at the damn kids to get off my lawn soon enough.  However, I still shoveled my own damn driveway this weekend, and figure I will continue doing so for a few more storms, at least.  And then, I’ll let that young kid down the street give me a hand.