A Wintry Mix

It’s ben a whale of a week. 22” of snow prompted 7 runs with my 15 year old Ariens snowblower to make the driveway, walkways and patio navigable. 

What started out as a light, fluffy snowfall turned wetter as the temperature rose, forming a heavy, wet packed snow. This made it much more difficult for the snowblower to cut through, thus causing my wife and I to shovel more extensively than normal. 

Talk about great aerobic and upper body workouts! I thought I was in somewhat decent shape at age 70, walking 3 miles twice a week and accumulating over 10,000 steps every day, according to my gospel, the Apple Watch. I lift weights 2-3 times/week in the basement a.k.a. “The Man Cave.” Which my wife generously shares with me. Then again, I have been a workout freak since high school and she hopped on board at the beginning of our marriage. 

I watch what I eat, which includes no red meat save three exceptions—one corned beef sandwich from Katz’s Delicatessen; breaded veal chops on my birthday; and a taste of brisket for the Jewish holidays. I drink only water—either bottled or from a Brita filter. I limit my pasta to whole grain and I try to avoid things like corn syrup and other baddies for my system. 

I have acquired a taste for flaxseed, nuts and there is salmon Wednesday to celebrate each week. I can go on and on about what I eat—even my Chinese food orders have been altered to ask for brown rice instead of white rice. 

No, I am not even close to my playing weight at Franklin and Marshall. That topped off at 142 pounds 49 years ago. I have added plenty of muscle to this frame since then, but with aging, I have out on inches in the midsection. 

I dropped 5 pounds in late January courtesy of the prep before a colonoscopy. Which has somehow stayed off thus far. I am attempting to lose another 5 pounds by the end of April. A reasonable goal with my mindset. 

As long as I stay athletically healthy. Which has been my biggest bugaboo for the past 25 years. And which restricts me now with tears in the peroneus tendons of the left ankle. 

Still, I thought I would be able to handle the massive snowstorm which blanketed New Jersey with my trusty snowblower, some shoveling and a bit of help from my wife. Was I ever wrong. 

What started out as an easy snow migrated into a long duration event with rising temperatures, causing the snow to be more watery, and thus much heavier. But what was I to do—by Township ordinance, the surfaces had to be cleaned.

I used to like snow. When I was young, it was a cause for celebration when we would have a snow day and no school. I had a window box air conditioner in my room, and I loved to watch the snow would pile up and nearly block the upper portion of the window so I could not look down the hill on Harrison Avenue. 

There was a pathway between North Fifth and Lincoln Avenues, which went down a hill, over a portion of the Mill Brook, a local tributary of the Raritan River, and traveled uphill to Harrison Avenue  and our home. The steeper part was on the Fifth/Lincoln side, and was a haven for local kids to sled. I still have my two sleds from over 60 years ago—a small one which my father painted over and inscribed my son’s name on it; and the Flexible Flyer which I badgered him to buy because all the cool kids had one and it went a lot faster and was easier to control. 

Our house was at the end of a circle, which demarcated the border between Highland Park and Edison. Which allowed the borough snow plows to pile up the snow away from our driveway. 

We had a fairly long, arcing driveway, along with a sidewalk from that driveway to the front steps, along with a back walkway, a set of steps to the enclosed patio, and the sidewalk which encircled our in ground swimming pool. Those portions of our property were my province to clear—leaves in the fall and snow in the winter—for my basketball backboard and hoop hung over the garage door. 

While sometimes it was arduous work, there was always a benefit to it. I could go shoot hoops on the most frigid days following a snowstorm because of my completed chore. I had my own set of shovels, one to push and one to lift. 

My father’s dental office and property was in Edison, just over a mile from home. I was enlisted early to help maintain the site with him, from painting, woodwork and trimming the shrubbery and rose bushes as well as clearing debris, to cleaning the basement which always seemed to accumulate water. 

When he learned early on that the two of us could not clean the lot sufficiently when it snowed, he made a significant investment when he purchased a snowblower.  He fashioned two boards into trams to load the machine into the back of his station wagon so we could transport it to the office property. Which we did. 

As I grew into my teens, the snowblower became mine to operate. When I was away at college or law school, he managed to get it back and forth between properties. Perhaps my sister helped, too. 

Yet when I returned to Highland Park to live, and later in his declining years when I had wife and family, I was charged with my ongoing chore. While I couldn’t clear the office in a timely manner, something his tenant took care of, I still got the orange machine to run at the house. 

Upon his death in February, 1992, one of the items I took from home to our house in Springfield was that snowblower. Somehow I coaxed another 21 years out of it, until starting and running it became too difficult. 

Sadly, I knew it was time to move on in 2004, when I decided to buy my own, more modern version. That machine has given me 16 great years of service, tackling all kinds of snowstorms and the unceasing remnants of the plowing by the Township which maddeningly  blocks my driveway entrance. 

However, the lifespan of this snowblower is between 15 to 25 years. With this last storm,  I clearly recognized that it, like me, was overmatched by the elements. 

Age has a way of catching up to us in many capacities. Whether it is the functionality of machinery or my being in my 71st year, there is a time to call it quits from the rigors of snow removal. 

My wife and I have begun the process of hiring someone to take over clearing the property. No matter how much in shape I am, I am not the person of 30 or 20 or even 10 year ago, when I could still run and lift and even swim laps. Tennis? Not on my radar anymore.

Snow may be pretty when it falls. Cleaning up afterwards is no longer in the cards for me. Sure, I will have the snowblower in the garage for an emergency. I still use one of the two original gas cans from over 60 years ago. 

I will be losing another element of my youth when I stop braving the wind and cold and wetness in my boots (only 3 pair of boots over 60 years) to meet my homeowner obligations. I will still have all of the memories associated with the year of clearing away snow in three locations and the people I met—from the Paulus Dairy driver who gave us a lift as we walked a nearly impassable Route 27 to the collegiality of our neighbors as we jointly shoveled and cleaned. 

I am not sad. I have done this task more than anyone I know of. This is simply accepting the reality of life and the aches of my body telling me in no uncertain terms that it is time to retire again. 

Speaking of age, it is the old man versus the youngster on Sunday in Tampa. I am conflicted on choosing a winner. I cannot help but admire Tom Brady’s career and how, once more, here he is in the Super Bowl. If he wins, it is because his team was superior and he probably had a good enough day. 

Yet I am attracted by the agility and skills of Patrick Mahomes II. His youthfulness hides a wold of innate football knowledge and aptitude. I want his Kansas City Chiefs to repeat as Super Bowl champs. 

I might be a bit sad if the Bucs prevail. After all, the game is in their stadium, which means they didn’t have to fly in. KC has had a small issue with COVID-19, and now there is the tragic news that Head Coach Andy Reid’s son, an assistant on his staff, was involved in a multiple vehicle accident which has injured children. This might be what tips the scale in favor of Tampa Bay. 

Some notes on the game I heard or read this week. Hard to believe, but tight ends Rob Gronkowski of the Bucs and KC’s Travis Kelce are both only 31 years of age. Gronk has a number of rings with Brady during their time in New England. Kelce trails him in a number of career records, but has the prolific Mahomes throwing to him. 

Both will be in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. It is silly to ask which is the better one until they both hang it up for good. 

There are three men who have been to the 54 previous Super Bowls. They are making their way to Florida for this year’s game. And the Star-Ledger has columnist emeritus Jerry Izenberg going down memory lane once more—he is another who has covered all the game since Super Bowl I in Los Angeles.

Finally, if you need full time Super Bowl coverage and have satellite radio, Sirius XM Channel 104 is for you. Classic rock Channel 26 still is my favorite. 

A number of NHL teams are on COVID-related pauses, led by the New Jersey Devils, who have 14 players out due to the coronavirus. The NHL season is starting to look like baseball did early on. The league sorely misses its bubble. 

Reigning free agent NL Cy Young Award winner Trevor Bauer chose his hometown team, the Dodgers in signing a mega deal. His choices were either the Dodgers or the Mets, which offered more money. The lure of playing for his childhood team was simply too much and makes the Dodgers the clear favorite to win in 2021.

Provided that there is a season in 2021. MLB and the MLBPA are at it again, bickering over when the season is to start. Right now, to the owners’ dismay, Spring Training is nearly upon us. Stay tuned. 

Rutgers is back on track, winning four Big Ten games in a row for the first time ever. There remain a number of tough games ahead. It is clear that team captain and senior leader Geo Baker is healthy and directing the team. 

Lebron James has challenged the necessity of the NBA having an All-Star Game this season. To which I add that it is greedy by the owners to force these stars to travel to a site for one game and risk all that they have sacrificed to be able to play. 

Kevin Durant was played like a yo-yo on Friday. Because of contact tracing, he didn’t start for the first time in 166 games when the Nets hosted Toronto. Then when the person in question’s test came back positive, Durant was pulled in the third quarter and will not play tomorrow in Philadelphia. Durant’s double figures scoring streak also ended in the loss to the Raptors. 

So to pull a star like Durant as state above while allowing an All Star Game to be played? It makes no sense to me. 

Finally, Manchester United tied its best effort with a 9-0 romp over Southampton. Only in a COVID year. 

There you have it. A wintry mix of sports and life. And wouldn’t you know it—it’s going to snow significantly on Super Bowl Sunday. Of course.