Sunday Dec 16, 2007
Awoke with a flutter of anticipation in my breast. My heart beat with
anticipation, I strode purposefully to the windows, and looked searching for
evidence of calamity and destruction. Looking out the side of my trailer, I
spotted the neighbors car. There was a dusting of snow on top. Surely, there
must be more.
Sofly, silently I slid to the front window of the trailer, and tried to
focuss my nearsighted peepers out the glazed double pane glass. But what was
to be seen? Hark! Is it in the distance! Do mine eyes deceive me? It is....
a trace of snow on the step across the street. I polish my concave optical
ajusters, and wipe the traces of sleep out of mine eyes. I pour a large jolt
of caffeinated sode, and add a couple ice cubes. With intentness of purpose,
I slug down large ammounts of BHA, BHT, MSG, carmelized sugars, dissolved
processed sugar, and a heart palpitating dose of caffeine, to get the poor
tired circulation running.
With the greatest of courage, I ponder the question of checking the
thermometer. One moment, I shall muster up all the strenth I have. A pause,
I bow my head and offer praises to the Great God of the Universe for
preserving me through the night in warmth and health. I gird up my bathrobe,
and wish for warm woolen socks on my feet within my slippers. Courage,
Christopher, Courage! Remember the handcart pioneers who crossed the plains
with rags tied around their feet, and only burlap feed bags for shoes.
Leaving drops of blood in every step as their feet froze. I pondered the
matter, and gave thanks to be in a warm trailer, and hearing the furnace
running in the other room.
With anxiety and fear, I fixed my eyes on the blue alcohol thermometer which
reads the outdoor temperature. Slowly scanning up from the bottom of the
tube, I find the top of the blue alcohol, and read across to the numbers. It
is 21F degrees outside. Cold enough, dear reader, to freeze the balls off a
brass monkey. It is among the coldest we've experienced in ages. Bitter bone
numbing cold, far colder even that last night when it was 15F out, oh, well,
In the spirit of my warrior ancestors, I picked up a long wooden stick.
Fearing nothing, I set my jaw, and resolved to face what ever the world had.
Would I survive to write of the occasion? Would this be my last action on
Earth? Are the Gods of the universe prepared to receive my mortal soul? And
in the warrior tradition, I unlocked the front door, and pushed open the
storm door. I plunged the snow shovel (marked in inches) into the snow, and
focussed my sadly nearsighted eyes on the indications marked on the blade of
my formidable weapon of weather warrior. My lance, my broadsword, my weapon
of no mercy plunged to the depth of the snow, leaving no room for any
quarrel, or resistance. The sharpened steel edge cut effortlessly, making a
wide path for the thin, stamped, corrugated aluminum mass produced blade
that was purchased at Kmart, for public use. One by one, the magic marker
numbers fell from sight, as the sharp steel blade sliced viciously into my
mortal enemy. Would I survive this contact, or would I be before sunset
laying dead on the ground, a victim of heart attack snow? Would I live long
enough to father children, raise the next generation, and continue the proud
Young name, fighters to the end? Would I be privileged to pass on the
traditions of the family? The five day work week, the puttering around the
home, the table napkin folded neatly on the laps of children eating with
their elbows off the table? The drinking glass ahead and to the right, the
fork on the left, knife and spoon on the right, with the knife facing the
With a mighty battle roar, I fearlessly plunged deeper and deeper. My steel
cut into my foe, there is no turning back. It is do or die. I must be
victorious, there is no life in defeat. There is no honor in retreat. My
battle roar echoes off the storm door, and into my furnace heated living
room. My sword has reached bone, the enemy lays lifeless before my steel. I
look with a proud victorious gaze, on the defeated enemy which lays flat and
lifeless and silently on the ground before me. I am victorious, I live to
fight another day.
I have just plunged my blade into 2 3/4 inches of heavy wet snow. I am
WARRIOR!!!! FEAR ME!!!!
Now, I'd best get some breakfast, and get dressed. Got to get the snow
Christopher A. Young;