The Thursday Thought

Sometimes I’m amazed at where my ideas for plays and screenplays come from. Sometimes it’s a singular idea or a character or an image. Sometimes it’s a perfect storm of germinating ideas and swirling images coming together at the perfect moment creating that corresponding vibration in the soul and suddenly – I just have to start writing.

Here’s a piece from Tom Loughlin over at his A Poor Player site. It’s a simple, oddly moving story. And Tom thinks it might make a good play. Could be. Here’s the post in full:

MAN VS. MACHINE

Fredonia NY – A man came to my door early this morning as I was having my breakfast. I don’t usually get early morning visitors, so I was taken a bit by surprise. I went to the door and saw it was a man with a shovel in his hand, wanting to clear my sidewalk and driveway of the inch or so of snow that had fallen since early morning.

I have a snow thrower. It cost about $550. My plan, as usual, was to run the snowthrower later this afternoon after all the snow had fallen. I pointed this out to the man. With a weak grin on his face, he said to me, “I see that,” and he waited.

He was perhaps in his mid-30s. His coat was worn but serviceable for the weather. His shovel was ancient, curled up at the very end. Nothing about him indicated he was homeless, an addict, or any sort of substance abuser. He seemed to be a man eager to work, but out of work. He was polite, softspoken, but behind his eyes was a look of need. We negotiated terms – $10 for the sidewalk and the driveway from the back of the car to the street. He went quickly to work.

The snow was not deep, so the work took little time; 15 minutes at most. I finished my breakfast. When he was done he came to the door, took the money, said thanks with a smile, and left, presumably on to find another sidewalk to shovel.

I remember when kids used to come around to do this job. They don’t anymore. Now it’s unemployed men. Maybe I paid for his breakfast, or for the one meal he would have today. Maybe I paid for his kid’s dinner. Maybe I made a contribution towards his rent. And maybe I paid for a six-pack. I didn’t ask. I didn’t care.

I presume I will see him for the rest of the winter when it snows. I presume I will still use the machine later tonight as the snow continues to pile up the rest of the day. Or maybe he will return later this evening for round 2. I have a feeling that I may be using my machine a bit less over the next few months. That’s all right with me.

There’s a play here to be written. It’s the story of two men: one with, and one without, who meet on a chance encounter. For one, the stakes are low; for the other, high. The snow is the catalyst that brings them together. They negotiate a re-distribution of wealth, of means. Where will this lead both of them? If you’re a playwright reading this blog, why not give it a shot? -twl