As I was growing up, I worked a number of odd jobs in the neighbourhood. One of these was snow removal. I enjoyed working at night when all sound was stilled by the freshly fallen, soft snow blanket. When pushing large quantities of snow I needed to exercise caution. I was of a height that put the handle of the shovel at the level of my groin. If the shovel blade caught on the lip of a paving stone, or some other obstruction, my exertions would drive the end of the shovel hard into my groin. This was extremely painful. I learned to be wary of this hazard.

I have no sure memory of what I was paid for clearing snow. Fifty cents for each walk is what comes to mind. I don’t remember if this fee included driveway clearing. All the houses in the neighbourhood were set well back from the road so the walks were long, between 25 and 50 feet. I liked this work. It was proper, manly work, unlike the servitude experienced on the golf course.

There is no way I would be able to perform this work at age 62. My dwelling has two small balconies to clear. I can get this done but it is a major effort. Manually clearing snow for a full, or a half day, is likely well outside my current abilities. I might be able to operate snow blower equipment.

Paper Boy

There was one winter season during which I delivered the weekend edition of the Montreal Star. This arrived in two large bundles dropped without ceremony at the end of our drive. I would collect both bundles, break the twine that secured them, and insert the colour weekend section into the centrefold of the main paper. Then the assembled papers were placed in a canvas delivery bag and I would walk the neighbourhood, making my deliveries.

I didn’t like this job very much. I don’t think I did it for more than one season. When snow falls the temperature rises and the air is warm and still. This made snow shovelling enjoyable. On the paper route, I had to venture out when the wind howled like a banshee and threatened to sandpaper all exposed flesh to the bone and freeze gloved fingers solid.

All I remember of this work is that it was very cold, and very unpleasant. I have no memory of my customers. I had a small book of customer cards and a little conductor’s punch and I was supposed to collect a weekly, or monthly, payment and then punch the card to indicate payment received.

Today my fingers and toes are very sensitive to the cold, even when well bundled up. I am not sure I would be able to perform similar work today.

Comment & Reflection

I suspect I would have great difficulty performing manual physical labour. This is due not just to my age but due to the fact that my head injury has resulted in the atrophy of muscle mass on my left side. This is particularly well noted in my left arm. I am still able to walk and have no problem walking for 8 miles. This takes me roughly 3 hours for an estimated speed of 2.6 miles an hour. I suspect that if I were to dedicate myself to a speed jaunt rather than my current lazy perambulations that I could easily get my speed up. The only potential work that might suit these abilities would be postal mail carrier (being phased out) and dog walker. For the later, I suspect dog handling skill would be paramount.