Hope

Rick Reilly is one of my favorite sports writers and you owe it to yourself to read this piece. Where would any of us be without hope?

Who is My Neighbor?

Snow in Seattle will always be magical to me. I can remember sitting near the back sliding door updating my mom every 2-3 minutes on the status of the snow from the time of the first snowflake. "Still snowing!"

We all know the snow is fun for snowball fights, sledding, and snowman-making. It's a great excuse to skip work for many people and it turns our gray worlds into bright white snowglobes. I love the absolute silence that comes with the snow. Any time I go for a walk, I make it a point to stop so I no longer hear the "swish" of my pants of the crunch of the snow beneath my boots. It is very rare that we have utter silence in our lives these days. As I write, I hear the whir of the VCR, the ticking of a clock, and the engines of the cars going by; but Sunday morning as I walked to work, I stopped and heard absolutely nothing for several minutes. It was a glorious awe-filled silence that spoke louder to me than anything audible possibly could.

I know the hazards of snow, too. One check of the facebook status updates of my virtual friends tells me there are many who are stir-crazy, some stuck at airports, and others simply ready to get on with their normal lives. I understand those plights and have certainly found myself frustrated at times as well. Of course, there are others facing even more dire circumstances, for whom the sky is their roof and the snow is a cold, unwelcome visitor to their home. As the snow fell last week, I couldn't help but think of those living in Nickelsville particularly, which tempered my excitement.

But today's events won me over for snow and reminded me of its magic. My day was bookended by good Samaritans. This morning, as I struggled for the second time to get the chains on my tires, cars whizzed by for 20 minutes. I thought about how great a second pair of hands would be for the task as a suburban slowed down, stopped 20 yards down the road, and backed up. The driver rolled down the window to ask if I needed help. I can't remember if I said anything or if the frustrated look on my face gave me away, but he immediately pulled over in front of my car, hopped out with his friend and they helped me get the chains on the tires of the Vibe. (Ok, by "they helped," I mean "they did everything.") It took 10 minutes or so and I got to know a couple of mortgage bankers who would be great to call if I ever actually make enough money to buy a house. No, they did not stop to make a customer. Yes, I did get a business card. Yes, they will get a Christmas card in the mail from me.

Tonight, I got home and discovered the plows had left piles of snow (that was now ice) between the road and the parking alongside the road. To my dear vibe, piles of icy snow are insurmountable mountains. So, I somehow wedged my way over near the curb and went to get a shovel with which to clear a better spot and conquer that mountain so that my life will be easier in the morning. As I finish my task, a man approaches and asks if I'm trying to get my car out. I immediately think he wants my parking spot or doesn't want me parking in front of my house or needs to fit his car in front of mine. Then I see the shovel he's holding and he says, "I was just talking on the phone and I looked out the window and saw you shoveling and thought I'd come help." I talked to Paul, my neighbor for several minutes, discovered his wife works at Safeway, he's lived in Seattle his whole life, and his house was built in the 1930s by the same people who built the house I'm renting.

I repeat: I TALKED TO MY NEIGHBOR. In this age of not acknowledging anyone, I'm struck by how a little snow can create a human connection between us and prompt us to reach out to each other. College students were using brooms to get snow off the tents in Nickelsville last Thursday. People at the bus stop acknowledged each other and had full conversations. I talked to my neighbor.

We were made to connect with people. We can see God in people we've never met before and we are called to serve all those in need. I think we suppress that need for connection, but it's so innate that it only takes a little snow to bring it to the surface. I heart snow always and forever. (Unabridged version)

Who's Right?

"Nobody's perfect"
or
"Practice makes perfect"

...because I'm not sure there's room for both sayings in one language.

I'm Back... Now Where Did I Leave that Soapbox?

I’m back from my month-long inpatient rehab and though the detox was painful, I have learned there is still reason to live and ways to spend my time other than refreshing bbc.com. For instance, I can take up my soapbox issue: The misuse of “literally.” I know, I know, there are better causes to stand for, but this simply needs to be brought into the light and it distracts me from the world of politics. I heard three absolutely egregious abuses of the defenseless word that must be called out:

“It literally reeks of desperation.” – The writer (a professional writer) did not go on to describe any kind of actual odor. He just compared the concept of a Grammys Nomination Concert to something about Fantasy Football. Do they bottle “Desperation?” I bet it actually smells mysteriously seductive.

Commercial: “If you don’t buy your windows from (insert company name here), you’re literally throwing your money out the window.” – No I’m not, you just happen to use an English idiom to create a clever pun. Perhaps I am figuratively throwing said money, but no cash or coins will actual be expelled from my window.

Sports commentator: “They are literally shooting themselves in the foot right now.” I don’t remember which team was Coug’ing it at the time, but I do know Plaxico Burress was not involved.

The sad thing is, I think our VP-elect is one of the worst abusers of this word… And then there's this. D’oh!

… I might need to check back into Politicaholics Anonymous rehab.