My mind has been rambling as I stay really positive while the polar vortex chills us here in our normally temperate part of the world.
Not to mention my despair as I watched the recent inauguration ceremony from the Capitol Rotunda in Washington, D.C.
The worst thing in any schoolyard is a bully, but still, could the incoming president have been less gracious, less kind and less respectful during his big chance at the microphone?
Why did I punish myself for a couple of hours, listening to such mean-spirited remarks? He used the “bully pulpit” to verbalize such vitriol, such arrogance and such power-mongering. Such disrespect for one’s peers and predecessors.
A peaceful transition of power, at least more palatable than four years ago.
If we could all be kinder, the world would be a much better place for all of us to live. With five former presidents seated nearby, how could any person verbally vomit such sentences? And this is now the leader of the free world. God help us all.
Now, an awkward segue to some light and positive words about lights. During the Christmas season, many homeowners and shopkeepers choose to brighten up their buildings.
Festively and effulgently illuminated bulbs shine from windows, eaves troughs, trees and hedges. And especially after snow has fallen, our dreams of a white Christmas are fulfilled.
We are so lucky and fortunate to live in a part of the world where one of our favourite Christmas songs comes to life each December. Even during the three winters I spent in New Zealand and Australia, I never once heard anyone sing, “I’m dreaming of a green Christmas.”
Christmas cards. Remember them? So many pretty snow images.
Yes, it can be cold here in Canada during the winter, but the famous Mr. Hockey from northern Saskatchewan, Gordie Howe, regularly reminded those of us from more southern climates, “There is no such thing as cold weather. Just cold clothing.”
My goodness, I am really rambling this week, aren’t I? Is it my imagination, or are more NOTLers putting their Christmas lights up earlier, as winter arrives? And perhaps leaving them up longer?
So much of life is controlled by our reactions, especially when something beyond our control has affected us. Even the smallest thing can be remembered and can have a positive or negative influence on the rest of our lives.
I love rambling each week, but some weeks it is difficult and a challenge to develop a somewhat unique column.
It has been my determination this week not to stoop to the level of the incoming U.S. president, to give him more than a short mention from my weekly lectern.
Permit me to ramble back to a very hot summer day in about 1958 in the great prairie city of Winnipeg. Our happy family was enjoying a Sunday afternoon drive in our light green and large Monarch car. Not a stylin’ car, but it served its main purpose of getting my dad to and from work.
That day, the four of us were enjoying some of the simpler pleasures of life. Not a theme park to be seen and enjoying frugal pleasures like a family hike along the Monkey Trails beside the Assiniboine River. My sister was 12 and I was 10.
We always loved being spoiled with a two-scoop ice cream cone, often Neapolitan if we didn’t want to limit our cooling pleasure to just one flavour. Our family loved being out together, even if just for a Sunday drive.
After an hour or so on this hot drive, before car air conditioning had been invented, we were driving along a residential street. Neatly cut lawns and tasteful flowers in front of many houses. We were passing one house that still had their Christmas lights attached to the eaves troughs. Their lawn hadn’t been mowed recently.
I was no doubt going to comment, “Gee, those people are lazy. They should take their lights down.” But my always positive dad said, “Wow, those people are organized. They have their Christmas lights up early, eh?”
A simple comment and a simple attitude. A simple way of looking at things.
A lesson from my dad. And part of our family DNA.
And this passing and remembered ramblings story from many, many years ago has enabled me to stretch my imagination a bit, sharing a fun story from my wonderful childhood in Winnipeg.
Too, it has allowed me to file a column without mentioning the gong show train wreck that is ready to assault us from Washington, D.C.