Journey of Self-Discovery: Masculinity Explored in a Personal Essay

Damn Ice

by DM Gilsdorf

At first I thought it was part of the dream I was having. In my dream, I was attempting, but failing miserably, to get up, and stay up, on a pair of waterskis. My father kept shaking his head and yelling instructions from the helm of the boat, but I could barely hear him over the sound of the idling motor. My older brother sat bored next to it, waiting for me to say “Hit It!” so he could relay that to my father. He wanted me to get up on the skis, not because he was a loving and supportive brother, he just wanted me to be done, so we could switch places.

We spent what seemed like an eternity out on the lake until my father finally grew too exasperated with it all and waved me in. I never did manage to get up for more than a few brief seconds. All I really managed to achieve that day was a high colonic and yet another blow to my masculine self-esteem. Another disappointment for my father to add to his long list.

It wasn't until the third or fourth drip right in the middle of my forehead, that I realized it wasn’t part of a dream. I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Staring back at me was an ever growing wet spot directly over my head.

“Shit,” I said. Followed by, “Shit, shit, shit!”

I began pulling off the comforter and sheets and then running to the bathroom for some towels on which I balanced a wastepaper basket to catch the drips. I threw on some clothes, grabbed my jacket and boots and went out to see what was going on with my roof.

As I stumbled through the knee deep snow in my backyard, I tried to catch a glimpse of the roof directly above my bedroom. The lot on which my house sits is an odd pie shape, so from my property I couldn’t really see anything. So I traipsed over to my neighbor’s and without even asking permission, I opened his gait and stepped onto his back deck.

From my new vantage point, I saw a bunch of snow piled on my roof and at the eaves a beautiful collection of icicles. They hung in a big hunk, and some stretched almost down to the ground. I couldn’t see anything wrong. The roof looked sound to me.

It was at that time that I saw my neighbor, Rick, looking out his back door, his robe loosely tied around his waist and a cup of coffee in his hand. He’s a nice enough guy, about my father’s age. My son likes him. They build things together. Something I never mastered the art of. Rick pokes his head out and says, “Ya got a pretty nice ice-dam going there.”

“A what?” I asked.

“Ice-dam. I guess you being out here at 7AM means you have a leak inside?”

“Yeah, but I don’t see a hole or anything from here,” I said.

“It’s not like that. You see, all those pretty little icicles are creating a dam at the edge of your roof. The heat of your house is melting the snow from below. The water from that melt wants to trickly down to your gutters, but it can’t because of the dam, so it backs up and just sits there. If water sits there long enough it’s going to start seeping down into your attic and then your ceiling. Can cause a world of hurt if you don’t take care of it.”

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked.

“Ya gotta rake it.”

“Rake it?”

“You got a rake? I mean a roof rake?” he asked.

When I bought the house the previous owners had left a bunch of gardening tools, but it being winter, I hadn’t had a chance to really go through them all.

“I think so,” I said.

“Well get that rake and clear that snow off, that should take care of it. But whatever you do, don’t go knocking those icicles off. That could cause a world of hurt.”

“Thanks,” I said and waved him a thank you.

I went back inside my house, because I was freezing and needed a cup of tea. It couldn’t get much worse in an hour.

After I had a chance to eat something and dress a little more appropriately, I bundled up and headed to the garage. I dug around at the back of it, where the previous owners had built a crude storage closet. Sure enough, I found a rake. I was all set.

I went outside to see if I could reach the corner of my roof, where the icicles had accumulated. I figured I had a better chance of doing that if I stood on my picnic table. After dragging the table to the edge of my yard where my neighbor’s fence butts up against mine, I carefully climbed on top, hauled up my rake, and with outstretched arms attempted to rake my roof.

“What the hell are you doing?” I heard my neighbor shout from his backdoor. I peered over the fence, which was easy since I was standing on the picnic table. He stood there in sweats holding a partially eaten bagel.

“I am raking my roof like you told me,” I said.

“Dear lord Jesus, that’s not a roof rake. Hold on, meet me at the garage door. You can borrow mine,” he said, closing his door.

I climbed down off of the table, well, I slipped down off of the table, and waited for him by his garage door. He came out a few minutes later, still just in his sweats. It was obvious he wasn’t going to help me. He lifted his garage door and walked to the back.

My neighbor’s garage was a lot like my father’s workshop. Every tool had its own place and that place was perfectly outlined in permanent marker and labeled. There were little drawers for screws and nails, a peg board for hand tools, and a hook for neatly coiled cords and hoses. It was clear, he cared a lot about his tools.

After some banging and grunting from Rick, he emerges from the back of the garage holding three long aluminum poles. At the end of one is this big scoop-like thing, like someone stuck a snow shovel at the end of a long pole.

“Here,” he says, handing me the gangly bundle. “Just leave it by the garage door when you’re done.” With that, he goes back inside his house. As he was closing the door he shouted, “You can go ahead and rake from my deck, but don’t go breaking any of my windows.” He definitely wasn’t going to help me, nor was he going to tell me how to use this roof rake thing, and what did he mean by that crack about breaking windows?

After some wrangling, I managed to put the three poles together. My hands were frozen by that point, because it was impossible to assemble the aluminum poles with gloves on and aluminum gets cold damn quick. I carried the contraption over to his deck and then attempted to lift it to my roof.

Now I am the first to admit, I don’t go to the gym on a regular basis and by that I mean ever, but I am healthy and relatively fit. Let me tell you, it took every ounce of arm, core, and leg strength for me to lift that sucker to my roof. The total length of the poles was 21 feet and at the end is an object spanning three feet and weighing in at around 5 pounds. Once I got it lifted off the ground, the thing had a mind of its own. One little lean in a certain direction and the shovel end would go flying.

I grazed Rick’s dining room window twice. I looked quickly to see if he noticed. Sure enough, he was standing at his kitchen door with another cup of coffee and shaking his head.

I quickly corrected my aim, but overcorrected and the rake went crashing into the clump of icicles hanging from my roof. They came shattering down to the ground along with a sizable chunk of my gutter.

Finally, after about the fifth try, I managed to get the rake up onto my roof. By then I was sweating through every layer of clothing I was wearing, my arms and legs were shaking, and I had lost all feeling in my fingers.

I took a deep breath and commenced raking. If you have never raked a roof before, let me tell you, there is something deeply satisfying in watching huge swaths of snow come avalanching down off of your roof and onto the ground. I enjoyed that feeling for all of two swaths and then I pulled too hard and the rake fell from the roof.

There remained a lot more to do. So I once again wrestled with the rake and this time managed to take out my bathroom window. It was at this point that I looked over to my neighbor's kitchen door and saw that he had left. He probably had become too exasperated with my pathetic attempts. And to be honest, I couldn’t blame him.

So I took the rake apart, set it next to his garage door, went inside, brewed a fresh cup of tea, and googled “Roof Raking Services.” When I ended the call with the glass repair shop, I raised my mug in the air and said aloud, “Add that to your list dad,” and I went outside and made a snowperson with my son.