Thoughts sans Power
{a note from Shelagh Rogers}
For ages, I've been hoping for a White Christmas. There hasn't been one on the lower mainland
of BC for ten years. This week, my wish has come true in abundance. And in the 'careful what you wish for' category, the power has been on and off for the past four days and we just got another warning from BC Hydro to turn off and unplug. So just before I do--this blog.
There is something unifying in hearing the whole country is "in the thralls of winter". There isn't a whole lot to hold us together right now--what an ornery autumn it was--except the weather (and one hopes, CBC Radio).
This is the season Shakespeare chose for Richard the Third's discontent. And it's the season where we sing carols about the "Bleak Midwinter". Andrew Wyeth said " I prefer winter and fall when you feel the bone structure of the landscape--the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show." It's suspended animation, unless you go into high gear to shovel, split your wood or chip the ice.

When the power does go off, it's awfully quiet. And you can't distract yourself with email or downloads or any other electronic goo-gaws that we use as sources of diversion and connection. And you start to listen to your own thoughts. I reflect back on this fall since the election (I'm a politics junkie. Addicted to Don Newman's show...and hey, how come he didn't get a Senate seat!) and the drama and uncertainty that's ensued. This is, to borrow the title of Joe Clark's book, "a nation too good to lose".
The other day, I was re-reading The Christmas Carol...the ultimate 'second chances' story... and thinking about how Canada is, in so many ways, the country of second chances. Here's hoping.
I think about the year that's gone by in my own life and feel grateful for the people I've met, the people I work with, the people who have so kindly consented to an interview, often at the hardest times of their lives, when they lost someone they love. Maybe you lost someone this year. I did...Oliver Schroer, the world's tallest free-standing fiddler, was one.
Peter Marcus, founder of the first kayak tour company here on the west coast who just lived up the hill, was another.
When I was interviewing Brian Francis about his novel Fruit and he talked about having lost his father, all of a sudden Brian was no longer a stranger to me, as I had lost my father, too.
This is what good books can offer us, too. The understanding that this hasn't only happened to you or to me.
But both to you and to me. And that person in the book, fictional or real.
My...this started out as some musings about winter. But it's ended up as something else.
Let's gather together, hunker down, toast absent friends and remember this time of year is about the second chance and making good again...as the herald angels sing: Born to raise the sons of earth, Born to give them second birth.
All the best to you.
Shelagh.