A friend send me an e-mail from Florida on Friday because she heard about the Blizzard that hit Nebraska last Thursday and Friday. I sent her a few pictures I took looking out of the window in the front of my house. Here's one of the them:
Seeing all of the snow piled up reminded me of a
blizzard that hit Nebraska in 1975 which I was eight years old. We got 19 inches of snow and the winds hit 60 mph. My family lived in a neighborhood that was fairly new, so we didn't have a lot of trees around to block the snow. As I walked out the front door with my mom, the snow drifts were up to my chest. I can't remember if my Mom gave me a big cooking spoon to help her shovel or if I grabbed it myself, but I clearly remember taking the first scoop of snow out of the driveway. I'm guessing that it did little good.
Shortly thereafter, my grandpa bought me a little shovel. He died in 1985. Seventeen years later, shortly before her own death, my grandma told me she still had the shovel and that I should take it home. I did. And yes, I still have it--it's the one advantage of being a packrat. Here's a picture of it.
I keep way too much stuff. But in this instance, I'm glad I did. Even though the shovel is rusting out on the bottom and the handle is bent, it evokes wonderful memories of my childhood. And as I continue to slowly get rid of stuff I no longer need or use, I want to be careful to not get rid of too much. The wise thing to do regarding things like this shovel would be to take a few photos of it and then get rid of it, but I don't see that happening any time soon.
