by Kevin Lamb

Created on: January 16, 2010   Last Updated: January 19, 2010

Don't forget to shovel the sidewalk,” my mother always said the minute I walked out the door. Now I knew the rest of the day would be spent with the biggest snow shovel in town. I was almost able to vote before I learned to master the snow shovel in our garage.

The moment I walked out the door I was in a land of adventure. Maybe today I'd be Admiral Byrd on one of his treks to the North Pole. Or I could even be a young Eskimo boy on his maiden hunt for a polar bear on the Arctic tundra. I'm suppose to be shoveling snow, so maybe I should at least head towards the garage and the snow shovel.

Once inside our garage a young boy could spend days looking at all of the cool things inside. Usually I didn't delay here too long because the adventure was outside in the snow. Of course I never had any trouble finding the snow shovel either because it stood out like a menacing sentinel keeping guard over the King's tools, and his accessories.

Now with the shovel in hand, my mission (should I choose to accept it) was to excavate the entire driving area. But first the yard must be checked for any activities which might be going on. In order to prepare myself for the task at hand, I always needed to warm up first.

This meant at least a trip around the neighborhood with the huge snow shovel in hand. You never knew who might need a little shoveling assistance, and besides the shovel was actually quite impressive. Of course this was always a plan to get a little help with shoveling my driveway. Sometimes it worked, but most of the time I shoveled the driveway by myself.

The best way to get some assistance with the driveway was bribery. Normally a trip inside my igloo, or our clubhouse would persuade a few of the neighborhood kids to help out with the shoveling. But when all else failed, a good strong back and a lot of imagination usually did the trick.

Once I started shoveling I worked myself to a certain point then stopped, and took another excursion around the neighborhood. After the trip around the neighborhood, it was about time for lunch and another break. Once lunch was over it was back to the old grind and the snow shovel. Now the driveway was at least starting to take shape.

Now I was on a roll. As I threw the snow wherever it fell, I made my way towards the front yard. With two brothers and a sister there always seemed to be something going on. Random snowball fights, or attacks usually helped to brighten a cold day, as did a few random pot shots with snowballs at the cars coming down the street. That was until I hit one.

Once this happened a quick retreat was made to the back yard until things cooled off a little. Sometimes it was just easier to throw the snowballs over the house into the street hoping to hit a big truck or a school bus. Large vehicles were always worth bonus points as we figured.

And now the afternoon was coming to an end, and so was the shoveling adventures for the day. Now that most of the driveway was clear, all I had to do now was convince my younger brother to shovel the sidewalk.

Those days are gone, but the memories remain forever. Our childhood driveway looks rather small compared to my memories, but the old snow shovel sits in my garage now; waiting to intimidate the next generation.  

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