My parents arrived home in New Hampshire today from spending their winter in Florida. I don’t think they like being known as “snowbirds” but since this is their 6th year of dividing their living arrangements between the North and the South, I think they have forcefully earned the title.
What’s interesting to me, is as soon as they arrived and unpacked the car, they immediately went into individual tasks they felt were the most important to them. My mom grabbed her old white broom and started sweeping. My dad started the frustrating task of getting the cable tv hooked up asap as to not miss any sports.
I spent a good part of the day with them shortly after they arrived and took some pictures. Back home in the evening, while I downloaded them, it dawned on me that each of their activities brought fond memories of growing up. And if I had to summarize them, the pics did it. My earliest recollection of childhood is sitting on my dad’s lap in my pj’s with my favorite red hat atop my head, placed against his chest while he yelled “scoooooooore” as the Bruins got a goal. I grew up with many tv’s catching all the sports teams: baseball, football, hockey, golf.
Now for the better half. When you enter my parent’s home, you will see a broom on the front porch and a broom leaning next to the refrigerator up against large cabinets. And when you tried to open the door of said cabinet, you had to move the broom! Drove me crazy. But now it amuses me. My mom loves to sweep! In the photo, she is sweeping the driveway. Who sweeps their driveway with a little broom? My mom.
In addition, now that I think about it, when I had my antiques store up in Maine, my brother had affection for the broom as well. He got a kick out of sweeping the sidewalks in the morning when he came to visit for the weekend. I guess “sweeping” is in the genes. However, I think I got my dad’s — I don’t like sweeping so much. I love watching football on television considerably more.