The Jim-Bob Olympics Report

"Good evening, and welcome to a special airing of the Jim-Bob Winter Olympics Report, coming to you from snowy Des Moines. I'm Jim McDonald and tonight we'll be cutting immediately to our man in the field, Bob MacCackle, who has another heartwarming profile of an Olympic athlete.

Bob? Where are you and what have you got for us?"

"Well Jim, I'm out here in the middle of nowhere, north central Iowa, to be exact. Now you're not gonna believe this Jim, but tonight's Olympic profile is none other than that wacky old lady, Ma Hoyt!"

"Bob...please tell me you're kidding..."

"No Jim. And until they increase my expense account to include Applebee's, I doubt I'll have the energy to come up with anything better. But this is still pretty exciting, Jim...well, maybe 'less irritating than the snowboard announcers,' would be more accurate...ANY-way, I'm here to talk with Ma Hoyt about a sport that has yet to gain official recognition."

"Wait Bob, are you telling me the profile doesn't even cover an official Olympic sport?"

"What can I say, Jim...except that I'M TIRED OF BURGERS AND FRIES. The front office knows what to do...but getting back to Ma...the spectator sport we're speaking of is Driveway Shoveling. Ma? Can you come over and give us a run through of this sport-être?"

"Sure thing Bob. Well, the whole point of driveway shoveling is to facilitate access to the road, but with as much grace and artistry as possible. Now here we have the garage...
...which as you can see with its three bays, is no picnic. Nevertheless, sections in front of each door have been cleared, with an attractive half-swan-neck approach."

"Oh...I thought maybe you just couldn't finish..."

"NO Bob, I meant to do it that way. We're talkin' sculpting and finesse. It's about so much more than mere snow removal. Now, moving on to the longer section...
...I like to call this the quarter pipe. Notice those long, clean lines down the right side? That's the kind of work that gets you extra points for style."

"Mighty pretty, Ma. I'm assuming you do that type of carving with a snowblower?"

"A snowblower, Bob...are you kidding me? Snowblowers are for wimps! This is not the girl scouts, Bobbo. The only folks I know who use snowblowers are old people and townies. You'd be surprised how those with a drive less than half this length think they need a snowblower. I'm tellin' ya, it's pathetic. No Bob, a simple snow shovel is the basic tool of our art. That, and a pick-ax."

"A pick-ax! Mercy, Ma...you've never been hurt, have you?"

Well, nothing serious, Bob. I did slip on the ice and bruise my knee once, but I've been keeping cheese on it and it feels much better."

"Bob?...Jim here, if I may cut in for a minute....Ma? Just what kind of cheese do you use for knee therapy, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Hey Jim...no problem. I started out with Havarti, but it was getting expensive so I switched over to Gouda. A few days on the ol' knee and then I buy a new slab, and palm the old stuff off on the kids for lunch."

"Whoa Ma...you let your children eat cheese that's been sitting on your knee for several days?"

"Yes Jim. But I don't tell them where it comes from. What kind of mother do you think I am? But getting back to my main man Bob, here...I don't think some people appreciate the level of difficulty with this winter's heavy snowfall. For instance, looking south, you can see that the discarded snow is taller than me.
Try heaving wet snow and ice for an hour over that baby!"

"Ooo Ma...my back's starting to spasm, just thinking about it."

"Here Bob, got some string cheese in my pocket..."

"Thanks Ma. Now, before we finish off this profile piece, I want our audience to see a shot looking east, down the length of the drive..."
"Absolutely, Bob. This is one of my favorite angles. I like to think of a FedEx or UPS driver arriving to deliver a package. The sun is close to setting. Blue-gray shadows caress the drive. In a moment of awestruck wonder, the driver stops and stares in stunned silence. His gaze sweeps the clean, fresh, lines of driveability. Remembering his duties, he drops off the package, leaving a company pen in appreciation. There's a tear in his eye and he mumbles softly, 'Thanks, ma'am. You've made my day real special.'

Hey, it could happen!"

"Alrighty Ma, I'll take your word for it. And now I'll send it back to you, Jim..."

"Great job, Ma. Uh...you too, Bob."

*turns toward audience*

"And that's all we have time for, folks. Tune in next time when we visit with Bob Costas's wardrobe consultant and ask him about those wretched ties.

Until then, thank you, and good-night.
 

Tweet