Welcome to the North Country

By on Feb 17, 2013 in Fiction, Humor

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Man shoveling in trailer park

“Do you think we should worry about the roof this year? After all, it is a new roof. What can happen to a new roof?”

“Maybe even a new roof can leak,” Mikayla said.

“Nah. I think that putting that stuff on a new roof would be a waste of time and money,” I said confidently.

Well, winter came.

One winter morning, Mikayla entered the kitchen. “How about a cup of coffee, Josh?”

“Okay. When I get back.” I put on my coat and boots.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to check the heat tape.”

“You checked it an hour ago.”

“An hour ago, the temperature was 15 degrees. Now, it’s probably 100 degrees below zero.” I went outside and returned almost immediately. “It’s still on, and guess what?”

“What?”

“It’s snowing. I’m going to call the radio station for the weather report.” I dialed a number, listened, and hung up. “No problem. Just a dusting. Maybe this is going to be a mild winter. Instead of getting buried in snow and freezing to death, we’ll just freeze to death. Speaking of cold, I’m going to check the heat tape.”

“Josh, you just checked the heat tape. You have to try to forget the heat tape. You can’t spend the whole winter checking the heat tape every five minutes.”

“You’re right.”

“Look, Josh,” she said and opened the door.

“That’s a dusting?” I gasped. “It looks like a blizzard.”

The next morning, I went to the kitchen and looked out the window.

“Mikayla, come quick.”

Mikayla rushed into the kitchen. “What is it?”

“Look.”

She looked out the window. “Where’s the car? Where are the steps?”

“How am I going to get to the college?” I turned on the radio.

“… the sale ends this weekend, so hurry down for great deals on shot guns and bear-proof trash cans. Now, to the weather. Everything’s closed. All roads are closed. Have a good day.”

“Not driving’s not going to be a problem for us. We don’t know where our car is buried.”

As it turned out, everybody in the park helped everybody dig their cars out of the snow.

The next morning, Mikayla dressed Maryanne and went outside. I sat on the couch and read. As I read, drops of water fell on my book. I looked up. “Oh, my God.”

I rushed from one room to another. “In one hour, this place is going to be a mobile swimming pool.”

There was a knock at the door. I rushed to open it. It was Ralphy.

Ralphy charged me $20 to shovel the snow off the roof. That was a lot of money in 1967, but it was worth it, because it stopped raining inside. 

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About

While in the Army, Saul Greenblatt was trained to be a Russian language interpreter. At the time (1962), the United States was not at war with the Soviet Union, so he worked as a lecturer and performer, all of which influenced his future endeavors. After he was discharged, he studied at Emerson College in Boston, and, after graduating with a master's degree, he and his wife and first child moved to a small town in New York, where he began his teaching career. After three years, he moved with his wife and two children to teach at community college in Massachusetts, where he taught communication skills courses and English. During his time in Massachusetts, he performed in community theater productions and tasted joy, agony, and defeat when he attempted the task of producing his ten-minute plays for community television. He asserted that he pitied producers. Twenty years prior to retiring from teaching, he began writing, and over the years, wrote stories and stage plays, one of which won a Smith College playwriting contest. He also wrote sitcoms, one of which was a finalist in a national contest. Since retiring, he has been writing short stories, novellas, and novels. His stories have been published online by Xica Love Stories and Flash-Fiction-World, and will be published in two anthologies. Writing has kept his 75-year-old mind working well, and he hopes to be writing when he is 100.