Musings: Snowstorms uncover the best in neighbors

When you’re 88 years old, your kids warn you about shoveling snow. My daughter and son have never forgotten that when we were living in Munich, a neighbor shoveled his sidewalk and ours, then went into his house, collapsed and died.

Before one recent snowfall in Rockville Centre, Julie and Jack both sent texts demanding that I stay inside and not shovel. I did as I was told, but when I looked out a window, I saw a young, new neighbor shoveling my sidewalk and driveway.

I opened the front door to say “thank you” and then asked, “Do you like cherry pie?” “It’s my favorite,” he said. “You’ll get a cherry pie,” I promised.

I hadn’t done the week’s grocery shopping yet but knew I had one can of cherries in my cabinet. I kept my promise and even got my pie dish back a few days later.

After last weekend’s snowstorm, I cheated a bit and brushed snow off my car and did a bit of shoveling. Julie and Jack didn’t ask any questions, so I didn’t volunteer any information. Once again, a neighbor showed up with a snow shovel. This time it was one of the 16-year-old twin boys who live behind our house.

I thanked him and offered him money. He politely declined. I then jokingly asked if he wanted a whiskey. He declined that, too. I sent his father a text asking what kind of kids he was raising who weren’t interested in either money or whiskey.

That evening, I went over to the neighbor’s house with a loaf of homemade bread.

I have intense political views and frequently feel many of us belong in hell. That makes me blind to how many good people there are, people who want to help neighbors.

How am I going to say “thank you” when the next snowstorm hits? Should I step up my game a notch and offer the next neighbor with a shovel an entire meal — maybe coq au vin?

— Larry McCoy, Rockville Centre