Neighbors Inspire Great Characters #Characterization #Snowbound

Want to bring your characters alive? Read on. 

Saturday, February 9, 2019, 10:55 a.m

Shades of my hometown, Darrington, Washington.

Back in "the good (?) old days," we sometimes got snow the end of October and didn't see bare ground again until April. One year the logging companies had to bring their equipment and clear the ball field so spring baseball practice could start. 

Now, 48 years after leaving the house shown at the right, I look out the window into several inches of rare-to-Auburn, Washington snow. It's cold, and has been for a week or so. Forget Punxutawney Phil. Algernon, or whatever our Auburn, Washington ground hog's name is, did a number on us. He (she?) evidently popped out of his (her?) cozy dwelling-place, saw his (her?) shadow, said, "Phooey," and headed back into hibernation.

So what does snow and ice have to do with creating great characters? Sometimes we meet unsung heroes, in their own quiet ways. Angels in disguise, bundled until they look like abominable snowmen, women, or children. Winter weather that slows civilization often brings out the best in people.

My fellow Darringtonites cared for their own. The hale and hearty shoveled walks and dug out those trapped by huge snow drifts and unable to help themselves. Our family, lived three miles out of town and often heard the rumbling, grumbling sound of a powerful machine. After the first few times, we smiled and said, "Oh, it's Dave." Sure enough, there was our across-the-road neighbor perched atop his tractor with snowplow attached, Grinning and waving, he cleared our good-sized driveway and left huge snow banks on both sides.

Not Just in My Hometown

 Memorial Day weekend 2018 marked my fortieth year in my present cul-de-sac home. I walk--a lot--and get to know my neighbors. They provide material for characters in my books. The past few days again show that small-town good deeds are not just found in villages and hamlets.

Last Monday when we awakened to snow, a parade of people began appearing at my door. First, two little girls carrying snow shovels, slipping and sliding in mid-20's weather. I thanked them for coming, but said, "I don't think you can shovel the driveway. It's solid ice." Abigail, the youngest girl, shook her head. "We didn't come to shovel. Mommy sent us to find out if you are okay and need anything." It was all I could do to hold back tears, thank them, and rejoice over having such caring neighbors.

Yesterday when there was a break in the weather, a teen boy rang my doorbell. "I have extra salt," he said. "Do you want me to put it on your driveway?" I offered to pay him but he just smiled, shook his head, and started spreading salt crystals. Next came Adam from a few houses away. He gave me his phone number and assured me that he and his family were there for me any time, for any reason.

The snow continued most of the afternoon. Just after dark Kristine from across the street called, wanting to know if I had a snow shovel. I told her I had two, She said, "The guys will be right over." I had planned to shovel the 2-3" today but here came Mark and Adam. They grabbed my shovels and got the job done. A good thing. It snowed another 3-4" overnight and the temperature plummeted.

A few minutes ago, the doorbell interrupted this writing. Retired couple Jerry and Kerry from the top of the hill had braved the extreme cold and icy road to check on me. I don't know them well, just through waves, and one or two significant chats with Jerry last fall. I hadn't even met Kerry. Yet they came.

Each of these persons have a place in my heart. They may also someday find a place in my stories. All looked beyond their own inconvenience from the snow to make sure I was okay. In the story of the Good Samaritan, a man asked Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?" Now, as back then, true neighbors are those who show love and compassion for others.

The smiles, brief visits during walks, my joy when the Halloween trick-or-treaters come, and waving at persons of all ages through my living room window the way my mother used to do, have brought rich rewards. I thank God for putting me in a "new hometown," and giving me more wonderful neighbors. 


Stay warm, everyone. This, too, shall pass. In the meantime, kids are out sledding in the streets. Too cold for me, but I will be waving from my window . . . .

Colleen