We do what we've got to do

I perched atop the front porch roof on Sunday afternoon to remove tons of dense, wind-packed snow. I worked rapidly to keep warm in the chilling north wind that was bringing more snow. The porch is thirty feet long and the depth of the snow was, give or take, three feet.  I am reluctant to start the task but the bedroom windows were becoming obscured by the snow, telling me the porch carried a dangerous weight.


Structures have collapsed in Ironwood over the years, including a portion of the silk-screen business  next door, a beer warehouse, numerous residences, garages and other businesses including a partial collapse of my dentist's roof during business hours. My appointment was not for that day.


I have (proactively) replaced the underlying structure of the porch roof and floor and installed new roofing and decking. Even an insurance check would not atone for the back-breaking work that went into renovation and repairs. It would not restore the circa 1900 detail of carpentry.


As I pushed snow off the roof I was comforted in my wife's efforts below. She was shoveling the porch floor beneath the roof on which I stood. She impressed me as a Proverbs 31 woman and discouraged my taking of any long breaks inside the house.


The cafe across the street was open and people in this small town are quite used to people standing on their roofs and removing the snow. Most  diners were not clad heavily, wearing only a light jacket with the zipper halfway open but they only had to get into their cars which they remotely started during their dessert course. It didn't bother me that I wore a blizzard parka with a heavy hooded sweatshirt underneath. Elk skin choppers with woolen mittens inside held the shovel. My Sorel boots with wool felt liners were deep inside the snow and I felt chilled, as I often do, since qualifying as a senior citizen.


The job was completed before dusk and we retired to the comfort of our wood heat to watch a movie. We each slept through parts of it  Seems to me that the same job did not tire me to this extent 10 years ago. I recall doing the job in an hour after Super Bowl III. The N.Y. Jets beat the heavily favored Baltimore Colts. Broadway Joe over Johnny Unitas. 


With Super Bowl XLV rapidly approaching I take Alleve after cleaning off the roof instead of going out for a few beers with buddies. 


I still have the garage roof to do. I'm hoping for a melt-down to take care of it.

Things Happen - Google Docs

Things Happen - Google Docs

Happenstance

Sometimes I ride a bumpy road,

On which I pull a heavy load.

I take it not in graceful stride,

For me it is the road of strife.

Is this God’s wrath made known

In cogs and gears and gaskets blown,

Failures in the stuff I own?

God’s revenge for sins I’ve sown?

What of the laws of science and nature,

Which God hath put in place,

To rule machines and beings and beasts,

Regardless of His grace?

I think it’s natural to worry,

To sit and rant the day away.

The heart within my breast in fury,

As trouble seems to have its way

_________G. Robert Nordling

Ironwood, Michigan (49938) Conditions & Forecast : Weather Underground

A Small-Town Street

Somewhere in the universe a tiny blue speck exists. Earth is relatively microscopic, yet it teems with a microcosm of life consisting of plants, animals, people, music, wars, commerce, crime, love, hatred, mountains, seas and small-town streets.

I have the pleasure of living on a small-town street. No sophistication here, just traffic, houses and a cafe across the street. My wife, Lois and I can view Fourth of July fireworks from our front porch. Sometimes a car toots its horn and we don't know who the driver is. People remark, "I love your picket fence," or "your lawn is so lush," and we wonder how they know where we live.

We are mature people in terms of years therefore I can remember Hudsons and Packards that parked in front of hour house as they had coffee across the street. I recall the smell of creosote on the telephone poles that the Michigan Bell utility trucks had. As a teen I played the pinball machines before they were removed in a city-wide raid and smashed to bits by sledge hammers in Carrie Nation fashion. The cafe has had seven different owners since I can recall and that's 58 years of recollection.

The Assembly Of God church was next door and years later became a real estate agency. The gospel of Christ replaced by commerce! Half a block to the west the Methodist Church stands with its ramparts of stone defying the sin of the world. The parsonage gave way to a parking lot, practical, I suppose but I miss seeing the pastor and his family coming and going.

Much of who I am comes from this small-town street.