David McElroy

When Vincent Ferrari woke up Thursday morning, his neighborhood in Rockland County, N.Y., was snowed in by about six or eight inches of snow. By halfway through the day, Village of Suffern snow plows were still nowhere to be seen, but what happened early in the afternoon is a great lesson in how people can co-operate — if they’re allowed to make their own plans and they don’t rely on government.

When nobody from the village showed up to clear the street, the neighbors did it themselves.

“Without government, who would plow the roads? Let me tell you who,” Ferrari said late Thursday afternoon. “My neighbor’s grandson and five of my neighbors.”

The neighbor’s grandson — a young man named Tommy — has a truck with a plow. The mayor of the village lives about a block from Ferrari, but she’s apparently on a trip to Florida this week. No plowing had been done in the 12,000-population village as far as Ferrari could tell, so by early afternoon, Tommy got to work clearing the street. Ferrari and five other neighbors went out with shovels and worked on the areas right around everyone’s driveways.

“He plowed and then we each dug each other out,” Ferrari said. “You know what that’s called? Voluntary co-operation. You know who hasn’t been down my street? A [government-owned] snow plow. Not a single one. We are the only street in the whole area that’s cleared because we did it rather than waiting for our savior elected officials.”

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As I sat for hours in the gridlock of traffic last week while Birmingham dealt with an unexpected ice storm, I had one question on my mind: Why haven’t I already moved to the Caribbean?

It sounds like a joke, but I was half serious. I’ve thought for a long time that I’d like to move to a Caribbean island. I have nothing except history tying me to Birmingham (or any other place). I’m tired of the cold that I experience for a few months in the winter. I’m tired of the humid southern summers. I’ve visited a dozen or so islands and I keep finding myself wanting to go back and stay.

So why was I creeping along — and getting trapped on — highways covered with enough ice to be skating rinks last week instead of living on a tropical island?

I could probably give you a dozen reasons. The cost of living is high. The opportunities to make money are more limited. There would be new cultures to learn, maybe even a new language in some places. I’d be leaving friends and familiar places behind. And on and on.

But the bottom line is far simpler. I simply haven’t been willing to commit to doing whatever it takes to make it happen. I’ve accepted the status quo because inertia was easier than committing to change.

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A couple of months ago, Thanksgiving day started out with some unexpected drama on my street. At about 12:30 a.m., I heard emergency vehicles screaming down the street. They stopped right next door to my house. I had no idea at the time that a man was dying just a few feet away from me.

As I watched, emergency crews went in and out of the house for at least half an hour, hurrying to get things from their vehicles. I took pictures of the bright red scene — as you see above — but I never knew what was going on. I finally went back inside and the trucks and ambulances left. I assumed someone might have been taken to a hospital. Maybe it was a fall. Or a heart attack. I just didn’t know.

It wasn’t until the next afternoon that I talked with another neighbor who told me what happened. I don’t know the woman who lives in the place where the emergency crews were working. I’ve seen her a few times, but we’ve never talked. I just knew she lived alone with her young daughter, who I’ve spoken to briefly a few times

What I didn’t know is that the woman’s brother had come to stay with them. I don’t know how long he had been there or why he had come, but it was apparently more than just a brief visit. Even if I had known he was there, though, I would have had no way to know that he was dying of a heroin overdose that night.

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