Village Squire, 1976-11, Page 50P. S.
So why do I hate winter so much?
BY KEITH ROULSTON
Lord I must be getting old.
When I was a kid 1 never thought I would
see the day when I didn't love to see winter
come. 1 mean winter meant fun. It meant
skating all day long Saturday on the pond
in the meadow. It meant skiing and
tobogganing on the big hill in the pasture
field until your toes were so cold you
simply had to give in and go to the house. It
meant sitting around the big wood stove in
the kitchen thawing out frozen appendag-
es. It meant hot chocolate and long nights
sitting reading books and in later years
Saturday night hockey games when the
Leafs actually won championships.
But most of all it meant snowstorms.
Snowstorms meant the buses couldn't get
down the concessions and that meant no
school. Man it was a great feeling. It was
so much better than just being sick for a
day and missing school because you didn't
have to feel guilty that maybe you weren't
as sick as you claimed to be and that it
might be nine o'clock sickness. It meant
too that you didn't have to stay in bed all
day but could do all the things you'd do if it
was a Saturday, usually without the
accompanying Saturday chores. And if
things worked out just right, the storm
would let up early in the afternoon, late
enough so that no eager parents would
think of driving you to school but early
enough to leave a few hours of daylight for
all the outd000r sports.
Ah, those were the carefree days. Spring
and fall were pretty bland but winter, ah
there was a season of real fun.
Then why is it that every year now I
seem to dread the coming of winter a little
more? Why does this cold chill go down my
back the first time the frost is on the
pumpkin every fall? Whydoes the mere
thought of putting on the snowtires and the
storm windows put me in a state of shock?
I was determined, I remember, that
when I grew up, I was not going to become
an old fogie. I was proud to be a Canadian,
I said, and if being a Canadian meant
putting up with winter then I would not
only bear it, but like it. Somehow I think
I'm letting the side down. I think it was the
great storm of 1971 that was my undoing
and the miserable winter of 1975 put the
final touches on it. Now instead of the nice
visions of skating on a pond or sliding down
a hill that I used to get when I thought
about winter, I see instead a large mound
of snow that after fifteen minutes work will
disappear to show my car under it. 1 think
48 Village Squire/November 1976
of hard, cold car seats and the frightening
groan of a reluctant car engine rolling over
in the morning (echoing exactly my
sentiments about getting out of bed in the
morning).
I think of salt on the road eating holes in
my expensive car (not expensive in
comparison to other cars, just expensive in
terms of what I think a car should cost). I
hear the sound of screaming tires and
muffled curses as the car gets stuck again.
Yes, things have changed since the good
old days. As an adult there are too many
things to do to take time out to slide down
the hills on toboggans and even if we had
the time to skate on an open-air pond, farm
drainage means there aren't many ponds
around. And as for the wonderful, guiltless
feeling of -missing school in a storm, well
it's not the same missing work. It just
means twice as much work to be done when
you get back in order to meet deadlines.
Ah, the wonderful old world when
deadlines were so few.
But why blame winter? It isn't winter
that's changed, it's me. It's me that lives
the lifestyle today that ruins winter. In the
old days, I used to live my life in winter in
co-operation with the season. Today, well
I'm not going to let a little snow stop me.
And when it does, of course, 1 get mad at
the snow, not my own stupidity.
Some of this is due to necessity, of
course, not just native stubborness. In this
business deadlines are a fact of life. If a
newspaper is supposed to be out on
Thursday morning then it means that every
day before that must be worked if there is a
hope of having the paper out on time. Then
there's the problem of getting to the
printing plant and getting back without
getting stuck somewhere along the way. If
people don't get their paper on time, they
wonder why. Some demand to know why,
and a Tuesday morning snowstorm doesn't
seem like much of an excuse by Thursday
morning (how soon we forget).
Someday, I hope I'm going to get back to
the place where I can enjoy winter again.
Someday 1 hope I'll be back on the kind of
schedule where it doesn't matter if you lose
a day or two, or even a week to a snow
storm. Someday I hope I'll be able to sit
back in my warm kitchen, secure in the
knowledge that the oil tank is full and the
fridge well stocked and enjoy a good book
while the wind howls outside.
That to me, more than big cars,
expensive clothes and fancy houses, would
mean success in life.
Keep YOUR Santa warm this
winter!
Instead of sloshing through the
slush with husband in tow, make
JUST ONE stop.
Christmas cards & paper
Swiss & German music boxes
Handwoven Madawaska ties,
scarves, tams & skirts
White Oak pottery
Scottish & Austrian mohair
throws
Toys
Decorative candles
Imported soaps
Extensive selection of table
cloths & place mats
Fine linen handkerchiefs
German Christmas Tree decora-
tions
Christmas Store Hours;
From Dec. 2 until Dec. 23
9:30 - 9:00 daily