Pioneering spirit

This winter has given me tremendous respect for the pioneers who founded this great nation. Those people were hearty, rugged souls  – or, as I like to call them, crazy. Yet something about their lifestyle makes me want to pack up and move to a log cabin somewhere in a forest, free of Wi-Fi signals, television and individual cartridge coffee makers and ride out the rest of this winter. Let’s pretend I could hack it.

Those pioneers would laugh at us today. For all our technology and energy efficient homes, we’re pretty inept when you take away our heat, electricity or cable. You can take away our phone lines though, because the minute the lights go out we’re all on Twitter and FaceBook so we can take part in the unofficial World Wide Web competition: “who is suffering the greatest winter woes.” I entered this year with photos of the backyard carnage of tree damage that included a new skylight in the garage, (a.k.a. the new raccoon entrance). 

I shudder to think what we would do without camera phones. I saw the storm from a hundred different perspectives, from road closures to dinners cooked over candles. For days I got updates on who had power, who needed a shower and who was offering space in their homes for others to come get warm. And of course, it wouldn’t be social media without cat postings, updates on the Walking Dead series and a few Rob Ford clips. All kidding aside, my online virtual community was every bit as awesome as my actual neighbourhood.

Perhaps the most important social media updates were the drive-thru status reports for caffeine addicts. God forbid the local coffee shop be without power or a generator to keep coffee pots flowing. Anarchy ensues. Twitter was the source of knowledge for powered drive-thrus with the shortest lines. Despite icy roads and falling trees, people ventured out to get their fix. Now that is a pioneering spirit. One of my enduring memories of the ice storm will be driving past the parking lot of a coffee shop where a neon-vested woman attempted to direct both human and car traffic as about a hundred addicts descended to order their double-doubles.

Canadians are a fickle bunch. Why do we act like it’s a surprise every year when the temperatures drop and the snow falls? We forget that once upon a time, winter was far worse and there was no Weather Network, hydro crews or mobile phone towers to keep us in the loop. Look, all you folks heading south know full well you are going to brag to anyone who will listen about how cold it is, how much snow you have, etc. (please take me with you). We’re Canadian; it’s what we do. 

Just think; we have many months of winter to go. There is a part of me that would love to have an authentic old-fashioned Canadian winter experience, free of winter driving and static-cling. I’d take the Carpenter and (maybe) the kids out of society and plant us in a modestly-furnished rustic cabin, with a wood fire, no electricity or running water and see if we could survive. It would be the longest three hours of our lives (and three might be a stretch).

C’mon Canadians, we’re tough. Winter is our season (my passport is ready; take me south with you).

 

Kelly Waterhouse

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