February 12, 2016
It is some kind of special to live in the Maritimes, the only place in the world where you will get a winters worth of weather in one weekend. Yesterday, we went sliding and skating in -21 C when it warmed up to -11. Lots of sun and no wind made that possible.
Today the same temperatures upon the uprising, again it will warm up, but is warming up to snow. Last week we were shut down with a mere 25 cm overnight. Very red alerts are out and the prediction this morning?
A blizzard, with 25-55 cm predicted. The thongs are already at the grocery stores. A blizzard by the way is where you can not see 400 feet ahead of yourself for four hours. I usually get ahead of myself but I digress, so early in the diatribe.
Bundled up OFF we went. Who is “we” my dear and patient readers ask and “why” would be a better question. My Syrian friends across the street, the children in particular. Ages five to sixteen, three boys and a girl. The 13 year old refused to wear her snow pants, citing that “no one wears those things.”
I am assuming that cultural divide, that Black jeans and tight were needed to make a fashion statement. Then we were gone. She did however leave snow pants, in the car. She lasted I will say a good 10 minutes before she went back to the car and put them on.
Where we went was the boot camp base camp, covered in white powder. I could run up the toboggan hill, in winter gear and in snow boots with no trouble. I had to it was the only way to stay warm, and built in muscle memory conditioning. I saw the hill, I ran up. I was impressed with myself and urged the four on. They were impressed as a karate school ran the lake in their white uniforms, looking like the Canadian army special forces.
I was impressed with her brothers, the oldest went to check on her after 5 minutes and the youngest started to get worried and wail. Both showed up. Back we went to sliding down the hill in three borrowed red plastic sleds and two pairs of skates. They all shared and whooped and hollered. I pointed out a “Canadian sand storm” the whirly gig machine distributing grit to make pathways safe. They got it.
Please note, they did not have enough equipment, they shared the borrowed skates and had fun doing so, in Arabic and English. (One of the boys is OFF to French immersion this fall.) Canadians could learn a lot from these children. The oldest boy wore his mothers snow pants. They all wore skates that fit one person. The middle son, needs new boots, none knew how to dress without exposing their skin to the outside elements. We put a stop to that and quickly. I showed them how to wind a scarf around your head to cover your mouth. Not one fashion statement abounded but pure warmth did
We slid then moved over the skating rink, the girl being the only one who had been on skates before, a total three times. The little guy, five, was up and at it. I made them let him fall and he did not do it a lot, neither did his brothers. More whooping more hollering.
Two hours of exposure to the elements and we were back in the car, with red plastic sleds, borrowed from the neighboors to my left. The youngest who has the most difficult transition was saying the whole time how happy he was. Real tears as did not want to do home, slid down his face. I said in my best Canadian parental voice, “if he did not stop crying, he would not be welcome to come and again.” His response was “that is mean!” and kept up his wailing. All the way home. I checked later, after his father pulled him out of the car, he stopped two minutes after we got home.
Their parents have had a tragic time in the last two weeks, losing both an uncle, and a nephew, one from each side of the family to the war. The total for the mothers immediate family is six and the same number for the father in as many years. They were devastated, but understand they must keep their children moving and have in spite of weather and war.