Cold, Eh?

Cold, Eh?

         It's winter in Canada. We talk of cold, ice, snow, and freezing. It's such a permanent fixture of our language. All year long we allude to it. In crime and mystery novels, ( movies too), we speak of: 'an icy stare', 'ice in their veins', 'blood runs cold', ' the heroine was frozen to the spot', 'frozen looks', 'frozen with fear/ horror', and 'chilled to the core'. 'Freeze' or 'ice' refers to murder. Dramas describe characters as being 'cold, hard, brittle' people who treat others with a 'cold shoulder'. They create a 'chilly or frosty reception'. There's the 'glacial handshake' and the 'wintery smile'. Wages , assets, and even memories may be frozen. What ifs become ' when Hell freezes over'.                                        

         We all know what to do when we hear, 'freeze'. It doesn't mean to become an ice sculpture . Freeze means stop, cease, desist; in other words, freeze your movements. We hear it when we reach into a cookie jar, or we start to run across a busy street. Some of us elicit this response when we attempt to rob a bank, or shoot a weapon, or flee. My experience has taught me that 'freeze' means do not squirm during an x-ray or the stitching of a wound.                    

         In winter, we Canadians may be frozen with indecision before we step outside to face the cold. To toque or not to toque? Maybe earmuffs? Maybe just a hood? Long coat or jacket? Wool or fleece? Scarf, turtleneck, or both? Mitts or gloves? Hip-waders, knee-length mukluks, snowmobile or hiking boots?                    

         Canadians greet each other with, 'cold, eh?' No chance of a chilly reception or a cold shoulder. No need to be unfriendly or ignore anyone. We are not isolated, rather we are united in our winter misery. We stomp our feet, slap our arms, and jump up and down together. We save our disdain for the weather.          

         In our frigid climate, we are forced to identify people by the whites of their eyes. Bundled, swathed, disguised by layers, voices distorted by appropriately-named mufflers and chattering teeth, we rally ourselves. "It's a wee bit nippy, eh?" "It's to be expected." "Feels like winter." "Spring'll be here before you know it." " No flies, eh?"                                                                                                    

         "It's freezing." " I'm freezing." Not really, it's an expression. Lakes freeze. Rivers freeze. Our breath freezes. Plumbing can and does freeze. What Canadian hasn't heard this acknowledgement of icy temperatures; " I'm freezing my butt off", or "I'm freezing my tail off"? If only this was in the realm of possibility.                    

         I'll be the first to admit that I carry a generously-cushioned backside. Certainly, I could lose some of the padding and many strategies to do so are intriguing. I have learned from personal experience, however, that the 'freezing my butt off method' does not work. Recently, I attempted to do this, although my original intent was to simply step out of my vehicle. Fate, in cahoots with gravity, ( and an icy parking lot), lured me into a slushy puddle.                                        

         Yes, my derriere was cold. Yes, I would go so far as to say it was freezing. In reality, ice forms at 0 degrees C. and in all modesty, my posterior is hot. The ice bath was uncomfortable, but it failed to diminish my spirit. My butt and I were not lessened by this experience, instead this mishap has been frozen in my memory.          

         In this vein, I also know that blood does not actually run cold. Too many winter vehicle accidents have taught me this. Spinning on ice or sliding into a snow-filled ditch can be described as a freezing moment. It's a frozen- with- fear -and- shock instance that renders a driver temporarily immobile. Each time becomes less numbing until it's simply ' learning to drive in Canada, eh'?                    

         Winter driving is expensive. Canadians don't favour the cold start. Their vehicles have to be warmed up and this burns extra gasoline. Wages may be frozen, but fuel costs are not.                                                                                          

         Wintertime encourages us to visit coffee shops, ( like Timmy's), where we can defrost and debate important Canadian issues like the weather and the economy. We bemoan our frozen assets, the cold hard cash in our pockets--- the Loonie and the Twoonie.                                                                                                    

         We share our 'when hell freezes over' dreams: winning a lottery, becoming another American state, The Toronto Maple Leafs earning the Stanley Cup, Quebec abandoning separatism, our money accepted world-wide as THE currency, everyone, everywhere recognizing, 'eh?'.                                                  

         In the meantime, we survive yet another Canadian winter. We shovel snow. We curse snow. We play with snow. Through it all, we shrug and say, "cold, eh?"