Frozen fields

 I looked out a window covered in ice crystals, and my gaze reflected my youth. I saw kids bundled up, playing street hockey, wishing they could have a real game on the skating rink that the town created each winter by flooding a field with water. The firetruck from Ladder 51 made it a habit to do this; without it, there would be no hometown hockey, which meant no hockey team, no adoring fans, and no cheerleaders bouncing up and down to stay warm.

The first game was scheduled for this coming Saturday, but a fierce blizzard had hit us overnight, nearly canceling it. I looked at the scene with a sinking heart, knowing it would take an army of volunteers to clear the rink in time. I decided to reach out for help, driving through town with a loudspeaker attached to the roof of my car, asking for volunteers to clean the rink. The response was amazing.

People stopped working, and almost every business in town hung a "Closed" sign in its window. Dropping whatever they were doing and armed with shovels, they headed to the rink. It was a heartwarming sight as I pulled up and saw at least fifty people of all ages clearing away the three feet of snow. Meanwhile, some ladies served hot cocoa as a gesture of thanks for their help.

Whether it was sheer determination or perhaps divine intervention, the rink was ready to host the game, which went off without a hitch. I often wonder how this would play out today. If a town were to ask for help, would the people hang a "Closed" sign on their stores and, without hesitation, offer their assistance? Would they put their own lives on hold while silent cash registers waited for their return?

One thing I do know is that small-town America still holds on to its traditions, and helping your neighbor takes precedence over most other things. People wave as they pass each other on the road, and assistance is offered to anyone in need—even to strangers. Children are taught to show respect, and heaven help them if they fail to do so.

I can't imagine living in a place where people seldom smile and never return a wave. I wouldn't want to mind my own business when something is wrong, nor would I want to live somewhere houses are so close together that you can smell their dinner cooking. That’s just one man’s observations while looking out a window covered in ice crystals, listening to the sounds of street hockey, and dreaming of playing on the big frozen field. 

— Mike, 2025