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BLOWING IT ALL
FOR A STRAIGHT EDGE
A Widow’s Bit – Jan. 13, 2008
By Mary Koch
“Now, keep your edges straight!”
It was good neighbor Doug giving instructions for using my
new-to-me snow blower. Seems like people have been advising me about
straight edges much of my life.
It started when I learned to sew. I was taught to line up
fabric edges just right to keep seams from puckering and to make the
garment fit. On the slopes, I struggled to line up the parallel edges
of my skis. When I was introduced to the lost but not lamented art of
pasting up newspapers, I toiled at the tedious process of lining up
columns of copy along the straight edges of a grid.
Keeping your edges straight may be a metaphor for keeping
your nose clean, which is a metaphor for avoiding trouble. I’m not
achieving quite the straight edges with my snow banks that Doug would
himself, but it’s not bad for a novice.
Some years ago, after Doug moved in two doors up the street,
I no longer had to worry about navigating John’s wheelchair through
accumulating snow in our driveway. Without a word, Doug simply showed up
on snowy mornings, clearing the driveway even before John was out of
bed. Good neighbor Jerry, on the other side, completed the task by
shoveling off the walks.
Even with John gone now, Doug’s generosity continued with
this winter’s snowfall until a few weeks ago when he showed up one
morning with some bad and good news, just as I was pouring my first cup
of coffee. Doug’s bum back was bothering him something fierce, limiting
his snow-blowing operations, he warned. Then he mentioned Covey’s had a
used snow blower for sale.
I put down my coffee cup and said, “Let’s go.”
It was a fabulous deal. A hundred and fifty bucks for a Toro
that goes for nearly $500 brand new, and this was in like-new condition.
It was the exact same machine Doug’s been using, except for one thing:
“It’s got an electric starter!” Doug gasped. “I can’t
believe your luck!”
My luck?
“Look,” I said. “I’ll just trade you for your old one,
straight across.” Doug had run across this great deal only because he’d
been in the shop the day before to order replacement paddles for his
snow blower. They were worn out, largely from hitting rocks not in his
driveway, but mine. Trading for his old machine still would have been a
good deal for me, but Doug was having none of it.
“Naw,” he said. “Guys develop kind of an attachment to their
machines.”
Despite the crooked edges, I enjoy running the snow blower.
Gives me time to ruminate, which is how I remembered the saying: If you
really want to help a starving man, don’t give him a fish. Give him a
boat and teach him to fish.
At the risk of being gender-specific, I have a new version.
If you really want to help an independent woman, don’t clean off her
driveway. Find her a snow blower.
© Mary
Koch, Omak, Washington 2008
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