Snow Angels

I didn't ask the Graves family to get me through a blizzard. They did it because that's who they are.

Scott and Marni Graves

This is about a good neighbor and has nothing to do with State Farm or Jake. Actually, it’s not about a good neighbor at all. It’s about a world-class neighbor. His name is Scott Graves and he lives with his wife and three daughters, just down the street from us in our hamlet north of New York City. Sunday night and all day Monday, we were socked with a blizzard that brought almost two feet of snow and winds so fierce that at times the snow fell horizontally. I woke up today to a complete whiteout and the sound of a snowblower. It was Scott on a mission to clear our driveway. His snowblower is a humble machine that was no match for the wall of snow and the gales that accompanied it. Scott was unfazed. He loves snow more than any adult I have ever known. Two days before the storm, the forecast went from 4-to-8 inches to 6-to-10 and then 16-to-20. Every revision amped up Scott’s enthusiasm.

“This is going to be so awesome,” he said in a text. He also said, “Don’t worry about the driveway. We’ve got you.”

For 2 ½ hours Monday morning, Scott was out there, making one 150-foot pass after another. He gave himself and his snow blower a short rest before coming back with the whole platoon: his wife, Alyson, and shovel-toting daughters Clover, Marni and Phoebe.

The Graves family does this every storm, because that’s how they roll. Some years back, we helped them find a house in our neighborhood when they decided to move out of Brooklyn. We also introduced them to the leaders of a private school that all three girls now attend. They’ve never forgotten that, and it seems as if they never will. It was not a heavy lift for us, at all. We love the Graves people and were thrilled to welcome them to the neighborhood. It doesn’t warrant a lifetime thank you, but I doubt I will ever be able to convince them otherwise.

I am pretty good with a shovel, and have cleared my driveways for decades. I rather like the workout and the palpable sense of accomplishment it gives, but I am also of an age when shoveling heavy snow is not recommended, so I try to be sensible. I was out there alongside the Graves people for a time Monday, shoveling snow off the car and clearing key pathways for the oil-delivery guys and the mailman, but there’s no doubt who was doing the real work. I went inside and made them a big batch of hot chocolate. They thanked me profusely. The snow began to taper off. They told me they’d be back in an hour or two to finish the job.

Phoebe Graves and her parents, Scott and Alyson