Shovelfuls of kindness

Two Decembers ago brought a significant snow. It was nothing like this January's generosity but it was a hefty five or six inches. I tended the driveway as my neighbors exited their house into a car. They, a young household with three smaller children, were headed to the doctor. Two had confirmed Strep throat infections; the rest were suspected. They had not cleared any snow.

I have a snowblower but I like the exercise and meditation provided by shoveling. That December, after I finished scooping, I thought I would help my neighbors out and get more exercise. At first, I intended to clear only the hardened crunk (new word I just made up) the snowplow left at the end of their driveway. That's the hardest and worst part, anyway.

(Incidentally, after this year's blizzard, the snowplow left boulders — literal boulders of snow! — as crunk to block the end of the driveway. And these were not bowling ball-sized impositions; these were landscape-the-entrance-to-your-McMansion-sized compacted snow monstrosities.)

My heart was happily pumping away and I wasn't tired. So I kept going until I had cleared their entire driveway. Returning from the physician and pharmacist, my neighbors would want to chill and rest in their warm house and not shovel some freaking snow.

On Jan. 18, the next year, after a new snowfall, my neighbors returned the favor; snow blowing my driveway. Their action was unnecessary but still appreciated. I decided afterward, informally, that Jan. 18 should become Neighborliness Day.

A colleague of mine had her driveway also cleared by a neighbor. In response, she brought him a plate of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. She advised him, though, not to expect homemade treats every time it snowed.

I have another neighbor who in warm months brings over garden surplus — and not all zucchinis! It's mostly sun-kissed tomatoes to make BLTs.

None of these anecdotes announce originality but they are Earth shaking. I think every next time neighborliness is extended, it's an Earth-shakingly good moment for humanity. You can test my hypothesis by bringing me cookies or produce.

We are about to enter a scorching summer sizzling with vitriol. And that's just a warm-up to this fall's nastiness. Even if all the political commercials, texts, and mailings are civil, dripping with narrative honey, we will quickly tire of them.

This fall another colleague will put her Biden yard sign right at the corner of their property to almost touch the (presumably) Trump sign of their neighbors. Biden and Trump may not want to shake hands but in this signage sense they almost will. Still, each side predicts America's end if the opposing candidate wins.

But politics, remember, is only one way to affect lives and move the world. The legal system, health fields, media, social services, STEAM, and business have brought us forward. Entrepreneurs, explorers, teachers, artists, healers, spiritual guides, and Mead's "small group of thoughtful committed individuals" have elevated us. All these forces will continue to nourish the arcs of progress and goodness no matter what happens on Nov. 5.

Playwright Eugene Ionesco said, "Ideologies separate us. Dreams and anguish bring us together."

Shoveled walks, shared produce, and homemade cookies can bring us together as well.

Patrick Muller lives in Hills.