by Kevin Lamb

Created on: January 16, 2010

The old rusty snow shovel stood in the dark corner of the garage like a matriarch of times past. As I turned in its direction dozens of memories seemed to dominate my mind of winters long ago.

The child in my mind longed to be back in the old days standing for hours with my friends shoveling snow, although my body ached just thinking about the idea. Either way, those memories will probably remain with me for the rest of my life.

Growing up in the mid-west snowstorms were sometimes few and far between. We would wait patiently by our window the moment snow was forecasted, hoping and praying that this snowfall would be enough to build an igloo, and of course a snowman or two.

As soon as the snow had fallen, everyone would gather all of the warmest clothing in the house and head immediately out the door for some winter wonderland adventures. Just as soon as we got to the door we always heard Mother say:

“Don't forget to shovel the driveway, before your Father gets home.” Both of my brothers would look at me like I was the snow shoveling king of the neighborhood. My older brother always managed to escape from these extracurricular activities, and my younger brother followed me around like a lost puppy dog. So, I was usually designated for this illustrious duty.

As we dug the old snow shovel out of the garage it looked even bigger than it did the year before. Could it have grown since last year, or was this just a figment of my imagination? Either way, our snow shovel had to be the biggest and the heaviest snow shovel in town. Even the Guinness Book of World Records would have probably given this snow shovel an honorable mention.

My father had probably acquired this shovel from his father and on down the line. Whatever the story was behind this old shovel I really didn't care as I stood in the snow looking at our never-ending driveway. I knew now that the only hope for my salvation was my best friend Marty.

Marty was a workhorse, and strong as an ox. He always seemed to revel in the thought of a challenge. Now all that was needed was a little encouragement for Marty. For someone as strong as Marty, food always seemed to be the best item for bribery. This tactic worked every time.

Now that our driveway was looking like a snow plow had worked overtime on it, we ventured out into the neighborhood for a little pocket change. Everyone knew that we had the best snow shoveling team in the neighborhood; that was as long as Marty was with us.

As long as we kept Marty fed he'd shovel snow till the end of time. But, there was one drawback to this situation: our refrigerator was beginning to look a little bare. We had to be very sneaky when we carted off the food for Marty or the gig would be up, and our snow shoveling days would be over for good.

Looking at the driveway now it's not a big as I remembered it years ago. I dusted off the old shovel and sat it back in its place in the corner of the garage and smiled. Every time I see that old shovel I always think about Marty, and his passion for food and shoveling snow.

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