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When I look back upon my career in shoveling snow, I can divide it in to three periods. There's the Primitive Era, the Evolutionary Era, and finally, the Concrete Era. Each marks a time where I had a different perspective in this field, my lens on shoveling focused a bit more.

The Primitive Era:

Ages: "Since-I-was-able-to shovel" to seven years old.

This time period was marked by my fascination of snow. My dad would grudgingly lumber out to shovel snow, and I, clad in my snowsuit, would prance outside, snatch a shovel, and eagerly start "shoveling." What I really achieved was limited to pushing snow around. After about five minutes of shoveling, it looked more like I had been trying to draw a picture in the snow than doing my best to clear a path. That was just about the time needed for me to quit shoveling for the day, and indulge in easier tasks, such as making snow angels and walking inside. It seemed to make my dad happier, too.

The Evolutionary Era:

Ages: Eight to thirteen and-a-half years old.

The big shift that distinguished the Evolutionary Era was the fact that it was becoming mandatory to assist my father in shoveling extravaganzas. Gone were the days of frolicking. It was time to become a man. (However, I didn't give up snow angels. Too precious.) After a snowfall I started to share my father's lack of enthusiasm to shovel, my innocence gone. The only happiness I found in the job was at the end: when I was done. More and more, shoveling could be associated with the emotions that come with a crappy movie; hopeful at the beginning, miserable in the middle, and euphoric at the credits.

The Concrete Era:

Ages: Thirteen and-a-half to present.

As the years passed, I learned many valuable principles from my dad. I was enlightened with several different realizations, such as:

-Shoveling basically sucks,

-Snow is a lot colder when you can't enjoy it,

-Mittens are warmer than gloves, and

-Shoveling really, really does suck.

These ideas have more or less been concreted in to my mind, hence the Era. I no longer accompany my dad in shoveling... he MAKES me do it now. To minimize the torture, sometimes I'll bust out a spontaneous snow angel. At this point, I'm looking forward to when the next Era materializes:

The Renaissance (Rebirth/Retirement) Era:

Ages: "Whenever-the-kid-I-have-turns -thirteen" to death

I think it's pretty self-explanatory. Let it snow.

Learn more about this author, Nicolacho.
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