By Don Rush

Long before it was chic to puff up kids’ ego by making sure most get on the honor roll, or making sure all athletic participants get trophies, I was pretty sure I was “special.”
Well, different.
I figured that out early in life. From about 7th grade through high school a black crow used to follow me to the bus stop and caw. It was kinda’ creepy and I wasn’t sure it was a good thing, but that thing would glide along the tree tops next to me as I walked across the couple of front yards to the bus stop, then land on a dead tree. I didn’t — or don’t — know if anybody else was followed by a crow. I was different.

* * *

I got bonus points in school and college for doodling on my homework assignments. Tell me that ain’t special (or different)!

* * *

My car looked like this . . .

However, born during a snow storm, lo’ those many years ago it was during the winter I truly experienced the awesomeness which makes Don special (and able to talk about himself in the third person). Let’s turn back the hands of time, wa-a-a-ay back to, oh let’s say 1988.
The first bad-snow day of that winter, years after the crow cawed its last, I wound my way through the curves on Clarkston Road, near Walters Lake. I was heading east to The Oxford Leader, driving my very first front wheel drive vehicle — a black 1984 Dodge 600 convertible with red pin-striping and red, leather bucket seats. I made it all the way to Eston Road and lost control.
Round and round I and my black 1984 Dodge 600 convertible with red pin-striping and red, leather bucket seats went. Once every 360 degree revolution I saw an Oakland County Deputy’s vehicle parked behind another car — one whose driver who also lost it round those curves. And, on each revolution my buttocks tightened a little more, cause I knew said deputy’s vehicle was what was gonna stop my forward and sidewards and spinning momentum.
It didn’t happened.
Miraculously, my black 1984 Dodge 600 convertible with red pin-striping and red, leather bucket seats stopped directly behind the patrol vehicle, on the shoulder of the road, pointed in the correct direction — about a foot shy of the deputy’s rear bumper.
I do not know the deputy’s name, but he must have been watching my progression in his direction, too. (I wonder if he held his breath as I was?) When my black 1984 Dodge 600 convertible with red pin-striping and red, leather bucket seats came to a halt, Mr. Deputy exited his vehicle pronto-like. He checked the distance between our two vehicles and then came up to my door. I let my lungs exhale and rolled the window down, certain a ticket for something had to be coming my way.
“You tried real hard to get me,” he drawled. “You okay?”
After I said, “Yes, Sir,” he told me to be careful and bid me farewell.
So, are you starting to feel or get an inclination regarding The Awesomeness of Don? No? Hang on a minute. Just when you thought it was safe, there is more!

* * *

Hell MI, did not freeze. Neither did we.

It was merely two weeks ago when all weathermen and women, all weather models from here to Europe proclaimed our little spot of the world was in for a terrible, terrible ice storm. If you live, play and love in the Mitten State you should hug those you care for and prepare for the worse, they said in all seriousness. Get ready for power outages. Buy water and food stapples. Top off your generator’s gas tanks. Children cried. Women wept and hugged the younguns. Men made sure there was extra beer in the garage. All signs pointed towards “Icemageddon 2020.”
Three quarters of an inch of ice would cause trees to crack, power lines to snap and driving, I quote the National Weather Service, would be “nearly impossible.” Times were dire.
I do have to admit, The Power of Don, really is amazing. Remember the year we had 100 inches of snow? That year I had to shovel it all, because I didn’t have a snowblower. The next year, I scrimped and saved and in the fall I bought a snowblower. A nice orange Simplicity. We haven’t had a decent snow fall since. You’re welcome.
Two weeks ago, in the face of a cataclysmic ice storm, I centered my being to the not yet frozen earth, breathed deeply and reached into my bag of tricks.
I filled up the bath tub with water early Friday evening. The sky opened, rain, sleet and snow fell. And then nothing. Old Man Winter and Mother Nature smiled and moved on. Sputter, sputter. No major ice, nor snow nor power outages.
Call me “special.”
Again, you’re welcome. You all can thank me, later.
Comments, concerns or ideas for he with the power can be emailed to

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.