Summit Wellness: Gratitude - "The Heat Is On"

Wellness can be achieved by virtue of completing a journey and maintain a lifestyle. But it can also be magnified by our ability to appreciate and be thankful for the things that we already have! Summit Wellness continues to hum the melody of connection between feeling good and feeling grateful!  

Gratitude is a monthly feature contributed by Matt Anthony, Digital Media Producer and on-air host for the Summit FM. Matt reflects on instances where we might uncover more ways to appreciate what’s in front of us, and how those instances might contribute to our overall health and well-being. 

The work-day at KDKA radio had been a long one. Aside from the usual radio-station minutiae (along with the daily sword-play that was required of a Browns fan who needed to spiritually survive deep in the heart of Steelers country!), western Pennsylvania had seen its first significant cold snap.  

I spent the better part of the day bravely wrapped in a brown and orange hoodie, trying to stay warm, and churning out on-air imaging-promos centered on the station’s traffic and winter-weather coverage. In the late afternoon, while walking across the Fort Duquesne bridge to my car, I realized that I, too, would have to do battle with winter road-conditions. The normal 20-minute drive into our home in the North Hills took more than an hour. I was exhausted, cold, and ready to call it a day. 

But when I opened the front door and went to dig out the morning newspaper that was lodged in the snow, I smelled something. 
 
“Donna, is that gas?” 

Three phone calls and two hours later, a crew from Columbia Gas of Pennsylvania rolled into the driveway that I had just finished hand-shoveling. There was close to a foot of snow on the ground, it continued to fall, and the temperature was dropping into the lower teens. 

“We have to find the shut-off in your yard and turn off the gas,” one of them screamed. 

I felt so sorry for this crew.  Two of them started in the yard towards the front of the house and dug down into the snow, trying their best to locate the shut-off valve. I couldn’t help. I had absolutely no idea where it was. (“what’s a shut-off valve?”) We stood near the front window, worried about the odor but thankful that we weren’t the ones who had to stand in those miserable conditions and dig. And dig. And dig. 

Donna made tea and I took cup after cup of the steaming hot liquid out to them while they slammed shovels into the snow, trying their best to locate that valve hidden underneath.  They were appreciative.  But, in that frigid weather, the heat of the tea didn’t last long. 

Finally, after nearly 90 minutes, one of them screamed, ‘I got it!”  They dropped down into the frozen white piles, trying to wedge their tool onto the valve in order to turn it off.  Finally, success. The foreman then came to the door.    

“There’s a piece I need to re-attach to this and fix it, but I don’t have it with me. We’re going to have to run back to the shop and get a few things.  But I need to turn your furnace off until we can get back here. We have another emergency that needs attention. It may be a couple of hours before we’re back.  I’m sorry.” 

So, we waited. And we waited. And the longer we waited, the colder the house became.  Donna ran upstairs and grabbed the spread from the bed and wrapped us in it while we sat on the sofa. I glanced out on to the small back deck where we had a thermometer tacked on to the hand-rail. 

9 degrees. 

The conditions outside had worsened.  The wind gusts blasted the sides of the house. I made a move towards the television to see what the forecast was slated to be overnight. 

And then the electricity went out. 

We sat on a sofa, draped in a bed-spread in the cold darkness.  I wondered about pipes freezing, interrupted intermittently by the woman sitting next to me, whose body was now shivering uncontrollably. 

I was helpless. We were helpless. Freezing. Hungry. Worried. But as the gusts intensified outside and the back-deck thermometer registered ‘7’, I suddenly realized that there was much to be grateful for.  

Unlike someone trying to survive the night on the streets, we at least had 4 walls to act as a barrier. If I wanted to, I could climb out from under that blanket, sprint over to the refrigerator, and poke around for something to eat in the cold darkness. And, best of all, we actually had help on the way. 

Nearly two hours later, with the gauge outside reading ‘2’, the electricity triumphantly returned.  And almost simultaneously, a set of headlights illuminated the outside. Columbia Gas had also returned.   

Decked out in parkas and winter gear that rivaled any Antarctic explorer, they pierced the frozen tundra with tools and flashlights, the smoke from their breath enveloping the night-air.  Clawing, digging, adjusting.  Finally, the person who had spoken to us before banged on the front door. 

“Let’s go down and crank up that furnace.” 

I never thought I’d want to hear 8 words so badly in all my life.  Minutes later, next to the glow of his flashlight, the glorious, righteous sound of a furnace resurrecting filled up the basement.  He glanced at me, smiling.  “Heat, huh!?” 

These days, during an arctic evening, when the flurries are pounding the outside and I’m safely and warmly inside as a spectator, I think of that January night in western Pennsylvania, and the gratitude I feel for those who make the heartless effort, the ones who simply do their job because that’s what they’re supposed to do.  I’m grateful for those whose mission it is to do whatever is necessary to simply turn on the heat.