Snow Flow

Late last winter we experienced a sleet and ice storm in our area and this was quite different than the usual magical snowfall many people love and wish for. Instead of fluffy snow cascading down in a gentle rhythm from the sky, there was a cold, hard, pelting storm of tiny yet sharp ice crystals for nearly a whole day and night that stung anything in its wake, downed trees, broke power lines, caused accidents and made life difficult for many people. The only reason to venture outside was for absolute necessity, so for us and our three dogs, that meant bathroom trips to the yard for them, or in this case, trips out under the front patio and just barely into the low lying cover of the surrounding bushes and trees. And of course, it meant journeys outside for me to shovel. If you have never experienced shoveling snow, when it is the light and dry kind, it can be a fun workout, or multiple workouts. I say multiple workouts because when there is a long period of snowfall or a wet, icy rain, I journey outside every few hours to shovel in order to divide the task into smaller loads. Given the weight of snow I’d much rather tackle it in a few lighter sessions than in one heavy marathon.

After I finished shoveling and a day of melting went by, the roads were clear enough for the brave to try to drive. So I drove our two larger dogs, Maggie and Elvis, out to the closest local park to have a proper walk instead of the bare bones versions they had been forced to recently accept. I piloted our hearse to the park which is basically a small valley next to the local municipal building. I parked in the flat lot at the top and we made our way on the still slippery grounds away from the kids who were having a blast sledding very fast down the slick hill. I wished I had a big sled since I am Big John King…

Anyway, we went over to a tree laden area far off to the side and quickly but carefully made our way around as we were all happy to stretch our legs more than we had been able to in a few days. After completing the “taking care of business” part of the walk, we ventured around some big trees on the edge of a swell along the back of the building. For those who may be unfamiliar with what a swell is, it is basically a long ditch dug in the ground to collect rainwater and direct its flow away from buildings or other things. Swells usually run downhill, and are an effective way to negate flooding. I had to dig one around our home for that reason, and it’s a far tougher workout than shoveling snow!

Meanwhile, back to our three snowbound friends…

We rounded the bottom of one of the big trees and although I’m usually quite adept and balanced on my feet due to years of Aikido training, I felt my boots begin to slide along the slippery edge of the big swell and knew that I was basically about to glide into nature’s version of one of the half pipes you may have seen snowboarders ride in during the winter X-Games. It’s been a long time since I’ve skateboarded, but I had no choice but to go with the flow that was suddenly quite strong into the swell. I straightened my feet, lowered my hips, smiled big, let go of the dog leashes and went right down the side and into the six foot dip. I made it about ten feet downhill when I finally lost my balance, slid baseball style onto my right hip and came to a stop. What a rush…

I was so happy I couldn’t believe it! I had more fun in this one snow filled, spontaneous moment than I had had in a long time. I looked up to see Maggie and Elvis watching to see if dad was ok. Once they saw I was fine, and even better – happy – they wholeheartedly launched themselves as only dogs can into the swell after me. Before I go further I must explain that I thought it was safer to let go of the dogs in that one slippery moment because we were in a remote area of the park and if anything went wrong in the swell at least would only be me who got hurt. However, I did have a good feeling when I let go of their leashes and “dropped in…”

Meanwhile, back to the two dogs…

So Maggie and Elvis launched themselves down the side and quickly realized in the world of what I call “doggie physics” that there is very little friction on this kind of icy snow. Their paws spread out for balance as they flashed big, goofy smiles like children usually do when their stomachs react from sledding down a hill for the very first time. I could tell they were thrilled and they quickly slid right down into me, stopping on contact and barely able to contain themselves. I stood up and preached to the four legged choir, “Come on, let’s do that again!” Tails wagged and we went back up to slide down together this time. It was as much fun as the first time, and even better for me as a “doggie dad” because I now not only had control of them in the park, but was also able to offer them a whole new experience. So we went down again. And up. And down. And up. And down. We did this until I felt my hip starting to go numb from the wet ice. I knew that their paws were probably feeling about the same way, so we climbed out and made our way to the car, excited to tell mom all about what happened. She was quite amused and said, “That should go in your blog.” And so here it is.

I hope that in the midst of reading about our recent venture into the new category of winter Olympic sports - human and dog luge - you found out that something good (a shoveling workout and a new winter sport) can come from something difficult (an ice storm), dogs seem to like sledding, and that good things can happen if you go with the flow and share your good fortune with others!

Oh, and here’s a great safety tip if you have dogs in your family… An easy way to determine if the ground is too hot or cold for them is to simply place the palm of your hand on the ground you are all walking on and keep it there for awhile. If it’s unbearable for you, you can be sure it is for them, too. So get them to safety immediately because remember; they are standing with all of their weight on their feet while you are (most likely) wearing shoes.

J & the Ducks

This morning my partner J had to leave for work ninety minutes early because of a medical appointment. She works in Doylestown, PA, but needed to be in South Philadelphia for an 8:15AM visit. After that, she needed to trek all the way up to D-Town for work, then return back home again after finishing long after 5PM. We live in an area called Plymouth Meeting, and its right in the middle of both of these destinations. Being centrally located is usually advantageous for us, but today it was not such a good thing.

She was not happy about the situation, and this was easily discernable by the look on her face after the alarm buzzer roused us both in the early morning darkness. Her hair was going one way, her face another and her body yet some other way.

She got her self ready in a flash and made it out the door, into our hearse (yes, we drive a hearse) and down the driveway into the morning fray of rushing cars and drivers. I waved goodbye, then hooked the dogs onto their leashes and took them outside. After we returned, I fed them as usual, made some tea for myself, and began to work.

Time flew as I typed away in front of the computer, and I assumed that since I had not received a phone call from J, she had made it to her appointment on time. The phone rang at 9AM and I quickly answered it. “Hello,” I said. No “hello” back, but instead I heard this… “I saved eight lives today!”

It was J, and she was bursting right through the phone. Her excitement was contagious and as she said it again, I immediately went into the living room to turn on the television to see if there was a report about whatever accident she was telling me about. It was not yet time for another traffic report and she began to speak again, so I listened.

She said she had been driving eastbound on the Schuylkill expressway, a two lane highway through Philadelphia that sees an incredible amount of rapid commuter traffic throughout the day. Traffic really increases during morning and evening rush hours, and today was no exception. As she neared the Philadelphia zoo, she noticed something amazing on the right side of the road near the concrete barrier – a row of baby ducks walking single file as fast as possible on the highway! She said they were obviously frightened and hugging the barrier closely, and were heading for a construction zone on their harrowing journey down the busy road. J instinctively pulled over to the right in order to block traffic, and to her surprise, some other motorists began doing the same thing in order to create a “safe duck zone” for the little ones.

She sprung out of her car. Just then a Philadelphia Police cruiser pulled up behind with lights flashing. A female officer jumped from the car, saw what was going on and burst out laughing and smiling as she began to help. “I thought that’s what they told me on the radio!” she said. I don’t know about you, but I can’t imagine what the official dispatch code number is for a line of eight baby ducks trapped on an expressway!

As the officer went to find something large and secure enough to put all of the ducks in, J and the other drivers were busily trying to coax certain ducks to come out, as some of them had darted to safety under the stopped cars. Early morning commuters turned into lifesavers as they helped get our little fuzzy friends into the box the policewoman now carried. She thanked everyone for their help, and explained that she was going to drive the little ones to a safe area of Fairmount Park and set them free far from the dangerous highway.

I was truly amazed at this rush hour miracle, and I was even happier for J because I could tell she was experiencing that fantastic rush of uplifting spiritual infusion that accompanies doing for others.

After she finished telling me the story, I said, “Your day started a little rough, but it’s much better now, isn’t it?” “Yes it is!” she said. I could hear her smile.

I was so proud of her for the way she responded to the little ducks in danger. Even though she was trying to make it to an appointment on time during Friday morning rush hour traffic, she helped save our little friends who are now probably telling their side of this happy story to the other ducks in the park!

It’s amazing how God, the universe, Karma, or whatever you’d like to call the power that shapes destiny can do. A day that began dragging in the dark is now one of the brightest we’ll remember for the rest of our lives. And to top it all off, tomorrow is J’s birthday. What a great gift of the spirit! Awesome…

Are You Listening?

Today I was walking our two larger dogs, Maggie and Elvis, and we happened to pass by a home in our neighborhood that is having an addition built onto it. Just as we were in front of it, a young man of about twenty five or so appeared as he was on his way around from the back of the house to the front of the new and evolving structure. He had a heavy duty radio and a long extension cord in his hand. He noticed the three of us, looked at me and said, “I gotta have music. I’ll go crazy if I listen to myself all day.”

I smiled politely, nodded respectfully and continued walking the dogs, feeling kind of sad that this fellow has not yet realized that he has a golden opportunity to get to know himself and practice focusing all day – and get paid to do so!

The amount of skilled crafts persons and trade workers who listen to the radio turned up loudly all day long – even when it blares music they (or their coworkers) don’t like, or talk shows spewing opinions they don’t agree with just boggles my mind. I wonder how many of them take advantage of the time to be in the moment, focus their attention and really breathe while they create and assemble their own brand of “hands on” magic…

Long ago in what seems like a galaxy far, far away, I once worked for a very renowned flooring company for a few months. Their method of operation was to send out two man crews to do most of the jobs, and added more teams or specialized staining and finishing crews as necessary. The company was very professional and understood that each of the crews must like each other and work well together because they would be in close proximity day after day. As the “new guy”, I was sent out with different partners on successive jobs, and afterwards there was a review of the process. This went on for a few weeks and I learned a good deal about flooring as well as people’s personalities and work styles. Some were ok to work with, some were a nightmare and then, it happened; I found my “flooring crew partner.”

He was a quiet Russian man about ten years older than I, and his name was Victor. All of the other guys were rather loud and raucous, discussing things like hunting, fishing, partying and hockey, but Victor just seemed to go on about his business with an unusual calm, and in fact, was working without a partner when I was first paired with him.

After our introduction, I helped him load his truck in the manner he wished. He was very organized and thorough, and placed things carefully inside as opposed to tossing them in like the others did. When we arrived at our job location, all of the other tasks were approached in the same deliberate and even tempered manner. As we began to work together, I started to feel that we would become a two man crew.

It turned out that he was from Russia, and had emigrated to the US for a better life in the early nineteen eighties. His years of working in the cold, open landscape of Russia had led him to appreciate the stillness around him and led him to enjoy exploring the stillness within him. This was a surprise to me because nearly every tradesperson I had seen in action (except my father) was always of the aforementioned loud variety.

We mostly worked quietly together, but when we spoke, Victor and I discussed many things, from world history and politics to art, spirituality, music, and much more; we even found out our fathers shared the same initials after Victor noticed an “AK” etched into the utility knife I used, which was handed down to me from my dad.. Victor’s father’s name was Alexander and my father’s name was Alvin, and the second initial was a “K” in both cases. Also, my father is of Lithuanian descent, and it was good to hear about that place from Victor, who had lived far closer to it than I had ever been.

Please recall that I mentioned we enjoyed talking when we spoke – not that we spoke all the time - and that much of our work was done very quietly together, giving us a chance to think about – or not think about - many things. Also, I learned it is very interesting to listen to yourself work while doing something very physical; if you are in a state of awareness you can tell when you are doing something correctly because the breathing and motions flow very easily. Problems tend to interrupt that rhythm, and often, without even looking up, Victor would ask in that unmistakable Russian accent, “Everything is ok, yes, John?” And I would invariably answer “No” and he would offer some wisdom about how to overcome my current hurdle in a better way.

I also appreciated that whenever I made a mistake, he didn’t react like some of the other guys did. He would merely correct me by showing me what I had done wrong, why it was important to do the task the correct way, and would then demonstrate the proper technique. After his demonstrations, he would have me resume the task again immediately so that the correct way was fresh in my mind, but also to ensure that I got “right back up on the horse” and kept going.

It was a very peaceful and relaxing way to do a very physically demanding task, and even though I eventually left that company, I never forgot my friend Victor or his lessons from far, far away.

This does not mean that every task must be done in silence, or that listening to the radio is bad, but if everyone who complains that they are stressed, get no breaks in their day or dislikes their workspace were to open their ears and listen, they just might learn to enjoy what they’re hearing. I know I learned how.

Thanks Victor, wherever you are!

The Heron

I was in my office writing copy for this very site today when I first heard it. Our dogs, Maggie Elvis, and Lucy immediately entered “defense mode” when they heard it, too. Defense mode is basically high alert, ears up, heads cocked, attention focused and ready to go. As I heard it again, I suddenly found myself looking just like them.

The sound was incredibly loud and piercing; musical but not music. Rhythmic, yet in short stacatto bursts. Like a machine gun singing opera. It had a wooden timbre, but was definitely powered by a full set of lungs. All of a sudden it sounded like it was right over our house. Then silence. Then there it was again. As this sonic circus unfolded, the neighborhood dogs began to bark to alert each other of the oncoming invasion. Our dogs began quickly trotting back and forth as they huffed and puffed. Something was definitely up.

I took a quick look through our kitchen door and there it was – standing about three feet tall at the bottom of our driveway. Long, strong legs with big claws at the bottom, blue and white feathers covering huge, powerful wings, a gracefully curved neck with a red stripe, and a long, sharp, beak that could mean business in a hurry. And it began walking right up our driveway with a natural dignity and grace. It was a heron. A big heron. I have seen these magnificent and intelligent birds in streams and lakes in wooded areas before, but I have never seen one make a house call like this.

I quickly thought “camera and food” and ran through the house to find both. The camera would help capture this “suddenly safari” moment, and of course, the food would help keep the heron interested during the production. I scrambled through the house and returned outside with the goods, but our neighbor was just pulling up the driveway in her suv and it scared the big bird away. But instead of flying, the heron turned and began to walk down the side of the driveway and onto our neighbor’s lawn. Interesting I thought; this bird is concerned enough to relocate, but not concerned enough to fly away.

It made its way across her lawn and kept going once her children jumped out of the car and moved toward it. As soon as it saw the kids, it walked farther down the street. I followed it at a distance and watched it walk around the corner. It finally stopped in front of a neighbor’s house and I was able to take some photos just before everyone seemed to appear from their homes pointing at the heron. Some kids ran towards it but I yelled “Stop!” to them, and realizing the possible danger presented by this wild creature, they paused for a moment. Their grandmother made her way over to us and she didn’t seem to think there was any problem with the kids “meeting” the heron. I remarked that the bird was taller than her grandchildren and it might be a good idea if they didn’t get too close as the birds legs looked pretty strong and it’s claws were pretty large…

This seemed to ring a bell and she soon called the kids over. I guess grandmom did not want to have to explain to the insurance company how the kids left in her care were beat up by a giant bird…

The heron then looked at me as if to say “Thanks.” After a brief pause it began walking away again, this time around the house and through a yard, and made its way towards the creek about a half block away. I was able to keep the kids back while taking more photos, and helped the bird nearly make it’s way to the water where suddenly more neighbors appeared from the other side of the house. This time the rush of humanity was too much for the heron. It bellowed its loud call, stopped everyone in their tracks, and took off gracefully, flying straight down the middle of the creek where no one could get in its way. It shrieked a loud goodbye and soon disappeared from sight.

I am grateful that I was finally able to see one of these magnificent birds up close, and I hope you enjoy the photos I was able to take while on the run. However, I hope that the next time our special friend stops by, it will stay a little longer…