Snow, Man, and'The Snow Man' Makes it Better! Behold Nothing That is Not There!

Well, so far I have had to use the trusty old MTD ( recently serviced by the estimable Mike Green) this winter.

We have been promised Snowmageddon again.  The Farmer's Almanac predicted a real bone snapper.

Thus far, but a dusting this A.M. - can't worry about accumulation. All a body can rightly do is praise the Lord and plow.

It's winter neighbors.  We get snow.

Here is a brilliant way to get over ourselves and revel in God's winter weather work - The Snow Man by Wallace Stevens.

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;  

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter  

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,  

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place  

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

Like a snow man, Stevens built upon three - five triplet stanzas.  Each 'snowman' relies upon 'perspective.'  We each and everyone of us look at the cold hard facts out there and each of us comes away with a different perspective.  The facts are supposed to dominate us, like a Tom Skilling warning of 'temperatures at Zero and wind chills down to negative fifteen.'  Tell that to a troop of eight St. Cajetan fifth grade boys on a snow day and the chance to sled down Beacon Hill at 107th & Longwood Drive.  Tell that to their teachers who have a day off! McNally's, Ladies!

Science, hard facts and snow mean something.  Never the same thing.

How Good Is Snow-Blower Repair Man Mike Greene? My 1994 MTD runs like 2016 BMW

I love the south side culture of " I got a guy."

Needs are fulfilled by word of mouth and respect for the word from a neighbor.

If I were asked by you about stopping seepage in the basement, I bring into my man cave and thrust my finger to east wall and "Behold! Water from the Rock!"  Hell, I am not handy.

Ask me about literature, jazz, history, great places to eat, methods of shirking households obligations ( no problem so big, that I can not run away and hide from it), or treating ladies with fair deference in all matters, I'm your guy.

• Want your furnace looked at?  Call Karen A Mcquillan, (708) 422-0090 and she'll get her old man, Jim, on it Air-Check Heating & Colling.

• Auto Problems? - Go to Kevin Moriarty at Meineke on Western

• Plumbing?  The Kennedy Brothers knock it out of the Park.

• Gutters and Chimneys glutted?  Call Sean Keane at Keane Sweep
• Taxes?  See Pat Biggane

Now, as to leaking basements, I have had my basement sealed three times inside and out. The CSX line runs twenty feet from my front window and the crib shakes like Oprah on a waterbed.  Can't help you. Nothing worked, but the shop vac and Fabrese.

How -some-ever, friends and neighbors, if your snowblower is on the fritz, needs a tune-up or repair, GO AND Call Mike Greene immediately if not sooner.  I called Mike in September and Mike and his daughter picked up my giant sized MTD 1994 purchase, which had beaten back lake effect snow in Griffith Indiana and cleared sidewalks, alleys and driveways here in Morgan Park since 1999.  

I serviced the machine.  Changed oil, repaired the auger and the drive-lines, drained the gas and managed the wheels, but I had not had the whole machine serviced since 1997.

Mike Greene returned (delivered) the snowblower three days later with a modest charge that included straightening the blades, replacement of drive lines, tightening the auger, complete tune up and oil and sparks.  Modest charge.  I keep it on my icebox and look at it when I'm blue.

I just got back from Mass at Sacred Heart and fired up the MTD for the first time. Last week, it was too wet to plow.

The MTD fired up and purred like a kitten (which I also need to replace since Sophie shed her mortal husk).   The plowing was exquisite and I hated to put the thing to rest.

I know that I will have plenty more opportunities today to get behind the plow, but for now,  a huge thank you to Mike Greene, a Proud Member of Operating Engineers Local 150 and a great neighbor.

      

Baby, It's Cold Outside. 'Who Told You, Hickey?'

 Dangerously cold wind chills to affect the area ... In Effect From Midnight Tonight to noon CST Thursday ... which is in effect from Midnight Tonight to noon CST Thursday ..N.B. photo provided by the exquisite Deborah Boscarelli

Fifteen minutes for my pre-set alarm goes off ( 3:25 AM) Sophie's scratch at my basement bedroom door signals me to toss off the quilts, hit my knees to the floor for my morning Memorare, and re-et my alarm  My eight year old jet black kitten, is one needy female who purrs up a storm until I give her the morning's change to the sandbox, In-House Cat Chow and double bowl of Michigan Straight H2O, as well as the requisite scratching, petting teasing with the pen laser.

God has given me another chance to inhale the day.  Neighbors, I worry not about ISIS, Al Qaeda, Ebola  Vlad Putin, the PDRNK, ,Red China, or what Rahm Emanuel is planning for me and other tax-payers.  That pile of anxieties are for people much more thoughtful, or psychically profound than I.  My anxieties are spiritual, related to prosaic civic and vocational obligations and most especially familial - I am a parent.  I worry about me bairns 24/7.  Like most worries those stand foar beyond my control. My youngest is snuggled in her bed and has five days remaing of her break from Western Michigan. The two older young uns are out of the nest.  Yet, I do worry.

Things I can address cause most of my anxiousness due to my husbanding of technical skills and talents.

The furnace is working fine. The sump-pump's buzz durng the morning's ablutions calm my constant home owner fears.  

All is right with the . . . Uck Fay!  

(Hickey's alley facing north)

Two powdery  inches of new white stuff on the weathered wooden deck.  The snow blower checked out and operated handsomely in respense to Winter 2015's intial assault, only hours ago.  The temperature is Zero, but the winds are mild.  No sweat. . .plow after work at Leo High School.

But, wait!  

Once  fleased, buttoned, zipped and gloved, I survey the immediate property.  On my walk, is a form . . .a human form . . .and all too human form . . .an all too female woman buck-nekid form . . supine in the snow drifted 1926 poured City of Chicago walk-way between the trio of park way trees and south side of Casa Hickey!

Do I start the dependable MTD snow throwing Dreadnaught and chance taking a 9mm in the ass from a neighbor - it is, after all, 3:45 AM?  Do I wait until after work? This exquisite beauty might require immediate attention! Call 911 and go to work?  

Own a home? You got anxieties.

Man, it's cold.  Time for Dunkin Donuts coffee!!!!!!!

Another Leo High School Snowday, but it's March 12th!

There. That wasn't so bad!

The winter! the brightness that blinds you,   The white land locked tight as a drum,The cold fear that follows and finds you,   The silence that bludgeons you dumb.The snows that are older than history,   The woods where the weird shadows slant;The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,   I’ve bade ’em good-by—but I can’t.

Robert W. Service - The Spell of the Yukon

The next mope or mope-ette who offers me another Currier & Ives observation on the white wonderland that is Chicago will receive a lengthy, passionate and serpentine French Kiss from me, after three Marlboros and 22 ounces of Dunkin Donuts coffee have worked their charms..

Snow was predicted. Classes were cancelled.  I did not get the news until I had plowed my dependable and my tenacious 2008 Chevy Malibu from Morgan Park to Gresham neighborhoods and opened the gates to the faculty parking lot on the southwest side of 79th & Sangamon and venerable Leo High School.

News radio WBBM AM 78 informed me that the roads were impassable, but assured that salt-plows were out in force, reinforcing Rahm Emanuel's Chicagoland mythopoeic formulae that Old Coon Eyes is in fact not only Residential Voter Friendly, but Presidential Timber. Empirically,  I'd need to disagree. Western Avenue from 107th Street to 79th Street was Ice Station Zebra and 79th Street east to Sangamon was right out of a Robert W. Service Poem.

The journey was filled with adventure - Numb-nuts who have four-wheel traction vehicles, habitues of late-night drinking emporiums who have reached bullet-proof capacities of strong drink determined to have their homes and apartment buildings 'pull up next to' their vehicles and the natural obstacles -arboreal limbs of varied sizes placed by the laws of force, weight and gravity onto the side streets.  With the grace of God, the Illinois Rules of the Road, a smidgen of common sense and GM craftsmanship, I arrived safe and sound of limb and vender.

Now, I will engage my mountain of missives and await the arrival of Leo President Dan McGrath to discuss the mysteries of Institutional Advancement.

I never seem to get bored. Now, I shall take calls -' Is there school today?'  No, there is not. Enjoy the splendors of winter in Chicagoland!

Snow-Blowing and the Sad Deaths of Talented People and of Course The Superbowl

The Irish Funnies are not.  No matter the day, we are reminded of life's gossamer hold on our blood and bones.  Yesterday, I spent my morning shoveling and snow blowing, after listening to the gospel from Luke in which two very elderly people witness the fulfilment of God's promise when Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the Temple for the Purification Rites.  I shovel and snow blow in league with Mike the Vietnam vet and retired Chicago Streets and Sanitation worker and a retired CPD detective and attorney who owns the same make and model as my own.  We are a troika of sixty years and change male making the path the little easier for our neighbors, especially the aging widows.  We ain't kids.

This winter is like other winters, despite the Polar Vortex and our dangerously over-heating planet.  Mike, Copper and I have been 'doing the sidewalks and diveways' since 1999, when I moved on the block form Griffith Indiana.  It is not fun, but it needs to get done.  We learned by being ordered by our elders and betters to 'get your ass out there and shovel the sidewalks, because you should not need to be told to.'  I have watch home-owners in possession of snow-removal gear take care of their property and return to warmth of the hearth and the flat-screen TV.

I can't do that and neither can my two neighbors. We are too timid to face the echoes of commands past -'get your ass out there and shovel the sidewalks, because you should not need to be told to.'  I don't know what my counterparts thought about while snow-blowing, but was stuck on the gospel by Luke and thought about old people (sans me of course) and how they perceive infants as possibly a justification of their lives. -

Now there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and devout, looking for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him.
And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he should not see death before he had seen the Lord's Christ.
And inspired by the Spirit he came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him according to the custom of the law,he took him up in his arms and blessed God and said,"Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word;
or mine eyes have seen thy salvation which thou hast prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to thy people Israel." . . .
And there was a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phan'u-el, of the tribe of Asher; she was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years from her virginity, and as a widow till she was eighty-four. She did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day.And coming up at that very hour she gave thanks to God, and spoke of him to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

Now, bear in mind that it is cold and that I am a God Damn crybaby; therefore my thoughts were constantly derailed according to cracks in the sidewalks and dents to the blades, the odd refuelings and unclogging the chute - yes, with the engine off.  I'm not a complete moron.  I thought about the recent death of a colleague, the result of folly.  How all the good that one can do, might be erased by one case of bad judgement.  I thought about my own catalog of sins of commission and the warehouse full of omissions.  What if I had grabber -right here in the alley between Rockwell and Maplewood and had not the opportunity set things somewhat right.

Old Simeon and Anna were delighted to witness the redemption of Jerusalem.

Finally, the sun came out and no more snow packed on to piles.  I spent the Sunday doping off, reading and watching old Maverick re-runs, until SuperBowl XLVIII!  Bad snap! Safety! It only got uglier.  The commercials? All I cared about was the Doritos selection, which included south sider Mike Cullen's talents.  Red Hot Chili Peppers? Not so much.  I watched the game until Denver scored, which seemed like a PC every-one-gets- a-trophy mercy kiss.  I had to be up at 3:30AM to pen my prose, go to Dunkin Donuts, say Hi to Cousin Sy, drive to Leo High School light the boilers, read the stuff I wrote and fix my more glaring errors, start the grey van and pick up the guys.No Jerusalem in New Jersey for the Mile High Guys.  What a stinker.

When I woke I learned of the death of Phillip Seymour Hoffman found with a needle in his arm in the bathroom of his NY apartment.  My God, the kid was only 46 and had proved himself to a most talented actor. Those demons we deny, or try to self medicate and meditate did in another supremely talented human being.

But Simeon and Anna kept their attentions on redemption and the new Jerusalem.  They saw it in the baby Mary and Joseph brought to the Temple according to the faith. No hoopla, or glitz, but genuine.

Walp, four to six inches of the white stuff is on the way.  I know what I'll be doing with my Me Time.

Waiting for the White Stuff -Snowmageddon Part III

(Up date at 10:04 AM)

Nothing doing here on the great south side.  Schools cancelled and I got up at my usual time -just in case.

So far the weather is mild and no snow.  Hang, on a while, please.  Dunkin Donuts is not open yet, so I'll head over to the White Hen ( actually a 7-11 now, but like Comiskey Park old nomeclatures die hard) at 103rd & Artesian and grab some zoom-juice and cream.

( fifteen minutes later)

I went up Maplewood and saw Alderman Matt O'Shea getting out of the house.  The boy do work hard.  White Hen (7-11)  aside from a couple of lotto-venture capitalists the place was empty.  "Where's the snow?" I asked.  "Don't ask that later, smart ass," was the genial reply.  Cops and Streets and San Drivers were going up and down 103rd Street.  I pulled out onto that street with my 24 oz dark roast and cream and took a right south on Western.  At 10400 S. Western I noticed that Alderman O'Shea already had the lights on.

Unlike that goof Cappleman in the 46th Ward, or that other 40 Watt intellect Proco Joe Moreno, Matt O'Shea is an old time, walk the ward and actually talk to people about services alderman. I may disagree with Matt on rare occassions, but I respect a person who actually works for someone other than himself.

No neighbors were out when I got home, so into Casa Hickey with my coffee and back to the keys.

No snow yet,  I got my oldest, Nora, up for work - I'll drive her to the Metra at 107th and pick her up tonight.

Snow -light snow coming down.  We may get buried, or we may get another pass from God's dandruff.

Stay tuned.  I will be in the garage test-starting the snow blower.

Law in that Small Commonweal- The 19th Ward and Mayoral Blizzard

Election officials said that as of 4:30 p.m., more than 6,100 people had voted — a total only surpassed on the first day of early voting in the 2008 presidential election, when more than 11,700 people voted.

Jim Allen, a spokesman for the city's election board, said the number dwarfs the 831 on the first day of early voting in the last mayoral election four years ago. He said that suggests not only that more people are becoming accustomed to early voting but also that Daley — who typically won by huge margins — is not running. He said the widely anticipated storm might have played a role, because people see they may not be able to get to the polls later this week.

"We'll probably break 7,000," he said.

I voted yesterday. Yep, exercised the public franchise. After delivering an Ad celebrating for 100th Anniversary of the founding of Maria High School from the Men of Leo ( Sveikiname, Maria!)and chatting with my counter-part in the Office of Institutional Advancement at the great girls school in Marquette Park, I drove to 22nd District Police Headquarters to vote, but learned that the early voting was moved to Mount Greenwood Park Field House on 111th Street.

In the parking lot, I found 19th Ward Committeeman Matt O'Shea, candidate for Alderman, greeting voters and all and sundry. Matt O'Shea is model of what I like in government service. There is not a day in the week that I do not see Matt going door-to-door, attending one of the almost daily benefits for suffering families at Bourbon Street, Beverly Woods, or a local parish hall, watching grammar school sports at Beverly, Kennedy, Ridge, Monroe or Mount Greenwood Parks. The young guy is ubiquitous. Matt asked about my kids and Leo High School. It was colder than a well-digger's rump and it was clear that Matt had been out there sometime.

Politicians talk about working families, in the same way that Disney Corporation does - Family means more money for them. Matt O'Shea is a public servant. There is a huge difference. A public servant knows whom he serves. Matt greeted people by their names -"Mrs. Janusias, I saw Albert at Jewel last week! Congratulations Grannie!; Hey, Jimmy vote your heart. Yeah you too, pal and the horse you bet on - Jerk."

Jimmy was one of few people who seem to believe that every unhappiness - his fat shrewish wife, lazy kids, drinking problem and collection calls on his house phone can all be traced to the 19th Ward.

I voted my heart and head. I read the papers and more importantly I talk to my neighbors - Jimmy included: " They are all crooked, lying, thieving, pension robbing, one way bastards. Can you spot me a twenty? I'm going up to Dingers for a few. Thanks, gotta drown my sorrows."

We all snow. I am an accomplished snow-thrower myself and the real deal is fixin' to drop on us around noon. All we can do is shovel and vote. No one else will or can do it for us.




The times are nightfall, look, their light grows less

by Gerard Manley Hopkins


The times are nightfall, look, their light grows less;
The times are winter, watch, a world undone:
They waste, they wither worse; they as they run
Or bring more or more blazon man's distress.
And I not help. Nor word now of success:
All is from wreck, here, there, to rescue one—
Work which to see scarce so much as begun
Makes welcome death, does dear forgetfulness.

Or what is else? There is your world within.
There rid the dragons, root out there the sin.
Your will is law in that small commonweal...

Lie Like a Dog

Last night, like most of us here in Chicago, I was plowing the snow on my walk, driveway and porch - every ten minutes - and decided to treat the neighbors and took the Old MTD Snow Blower north on Rockwell.

At 107th, the auger was packed with wet,icy chunks and not blowing snow out of the chute as it should. I shut off the machine and unclogged the blockage. I noticed a sign in the front window of one of the houses - TALKING DOG for SALE.

As it was about 7:30PM, I decided to inquire.

"You gotta talking dog?"

'What of it?'

"Nothing. I saw your sign."

'He's out back in his house. Hey do my drive.'

" No sweat."

I plowed the man's drive - sounds homoerotic, that.

In the fenced-in back yard was a beautiful Golden Lab.

"Hi, there handsome! You are a good boy."

'Don't patrionize me. please.'

I was Gobsmacked! "You Talk!??!"

' Is that a question or an exclamation? Yes, I talk very well. I have from the time I was a puppy. I speak Farsi, Arabic, Russian and Korean, as well as English. The lout who pointed you in my direction - who wants to be rid of me - has only had me for the last year. You see, I was placed in the Department of Defense and served with distinction in Desert Storm II - I listened to Al Qaeda and reported on their planned attacks. I was so effective that I was transferred to the Department of State and sent to pick information wherever the Nation needed me. I was retired, took a mate and went halves on three litters of pups and eventually sold to this Knot-head from Chicago.'

" Would you care to move down the block? My dauhter Clare would love you!"

'Proud to! Get his asking price.'

I knocked on the back door and the man answered, 'You do my drive?'

"I did. What are you asking for the dog?"

'Sawbuck ($10)'

"That's all for a talking dog? Here. . . here's a Jackson!"

'Take him! He's #$%^ing Liar! He never did any of that $hit!"

. . . And on I plowed. That lying dog stayed put.

With apologies to John Linehan Leo 1977!