Snow, Snow, a Lot of Snow
Posted: Wednesday, February 02, 2011
by Patricia Barbee
http://www.patriciabarbee.com
When our family was intact it was as close to Heaven as a little girl could get. Then Mom took ill and Nana and Grandperé cared for me for months. At that time I never knew why Mom was so sick. The Grands were busy keeping me busy and pampering me so that my head never took in the troubles the adults shared. Long after Mom died and Nana and I both widows, we were sitting with our feet up, she told me what I needed to know. I treasure that time we had together.
All of us children knew the firemen. They were a part of our "village caring for us".
Snow was never a problem for us then. Snowfalls. School days were canceled and the adults and City of Boston took care of the snow. We kids had a blast. Behind us was Madison Park. For what we lacked in store bought toys, we improvised.
One Spring day, Grandperé fell down the basement stairs going to replace a burned out light bulb. A wooden step broke. We did not own the building. Grandperé spent weeks in the hospital and died. In those days, the hip replacement had not been "invented".
We had moved around the corner a good 150 feet from Nana. She soon found the huge unit too large for her. All those rooms for years had been filled with love and laughter and for her the silence was deafening.
Nana moved within walking distance for me and closer to her job that kept her busy. It was no fun seeing her in such a small space. Her heart was understandably broken even for a little girl to understand.
Mom decided we needed a larger place. We moved to a beautiful place. Now a visit to Nana was a ride on Boston's famous MTA and a walk.
The new neighborhood no longer exists and I'm one of the few still alive that lived on our short street. Out back were neighbors with Hollywood television connections. Across from their house was Washington Park. A huge place with lots of room for snow play.
One of the streets that fed off our block long street lived some guy named Bill Russell and he played basketball for the Celtics. Past the Park and a couple streets over lived two sisters, my soros=girl pals. Across from their house lived my sixth grade teacher. Next to her house lived an ambitious man with his family. He became Senator Ed Brooke, definitely a history maker. My soros were his daughters' baby sitters.
Now, to the snow. My Mom soon earned the reputation of being a nut in our small neighborhood. When the snow would begin, she'd sweep the tiny porch and steps. Then she'd sweep or shovel the snow from the sidewalk to the fire hydrant directly in front of out bay window. The hydrant was kept pristine. It had a small path to the street.
If the snow fall was heavy and at night, Mom slept little. She kept the hundred square feet of terra firma cleared of snow.
If the snow began in the day and I was home or soon home, this middle school girl did the best she could. I was great at the sweeping, but lacked the strength to handle the shovel to Mom's perfection.
This continued for at least seven years that we lived there.
Ahhhh, one night we heard screaming from the one block street directly in front of our house. Mom looked out and saw flames. She dressed in a split second and we could hear the fire engines.
The fire engines could not go up the street; it was a hill.
Mom was a heroine that night. The engines completely blocked our street and with Mom directing the firemen to her cleared fire hydrant. The firemen were able to snap on their hoses and run them up the street.
I dressed to watch the activities from the porch. I heard a fireman tell Mom, never had he seen any hydrant cleared of snow with access to it.
Mom had a reason for being scared of fire. She'd heard before she was born she had a baby brother who died from smoke inhalation because he'd crawled out of his bed and played in the dying embers of a fireplace. Her Mom had taken her eyes off Louis for less than two minutes.
Death takes less than a second!
Mom was always cautious with fire. Fire is to be respected.
Patricia Barbee
SearchWarp.com
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Top-level comments on this article: (1 total)This is a really really nice thing to share. You Mom is really something. Thanks for this article!Mom was special. She walked to her pace in her moccasins. Thanks for the love.
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