When it started getting cold this year and snow was in the air, someone spotted me walking and wanted to know why my coat was unbuttoned. “Don’t you know it’s cold?” she asked.
If I don’t happen to have on my gloves or a hat, a fellow here in town will scold, “Don’t you know it’s cold? Why aren’t you dressed warmer? I’ll bet your mother didn’t let you go out the door that way!”
I appreciate their concern, but I’m fine. Cold, like time, is always at least partly relative. I grew up in Minnesota where we thought it was still just chilly until the temperature hit -15°. Six inches of snow was a “dusting.” It took a full-bore blizzard for schools to close for the day.
Wanting even more of those arctic vortices, I moved to northern Alberta, Canada. You can really find cold air there, where for weeks on end temperatures climb to -30° for the daytime high. The sun rose about 10 a.m. and set about four hours later.
We didn’t get much snow because it was too cold to snow very much. Add to that a wind from the North Pole and Alberta winters can be intense.
People in Florida think any temperature below 80° is positively frigid. For a true southerner, two snowflakes in proximity is the signal to stay home.
In late autumn Grandpa Brady advertised in the local newspaper he was taking reservations for 5-lb. “lugs” of mandarin oranges, two lugs per person maximum, no exceptions.
We dutifully stood in line outside the grocery store to place our order and pay in advance. Even back then, it was $20 for 5 lbs.
Weeks later, a big military transport plane would circle overhead like a vulture, then land at the nearby airbase. The lugs were offloaded and put onto trucks, then the commanding officer signed off on a military escort and convoy to take them to Grandpa Brady’s store.
Some squadies were detailed to stand guard around the store, but we all knew it was just part of the Theater of the Mandarins. They were air cadets not allowed to carry live ammunition.
We got our two lugs and that was it. The object of the exercise was to make them last as long as possible because we wouldn’t see any more until the next year. We took pride in making them last, one small section at a time, without drying up or rotting first.
Right after the arrival of the Mandarins, we had more excitement when the first vanguard of ravens migrated down from the Arctic.
That was the signal for the two young men who worked for the parish, Sam and Ed Fryingpan, to spend several days going around town to ask people if they thought they were going to die that winter or survive till spring.
The wore black top hats with black cloth tied around the brims to add a festive air to the business.
To make sure they covered the town, Sam and Ed spent evenings at the Roundel Tap Room to talk with others. It took them an inordinate amount of time for some reason.
Maybe it was because if someone said they were going to fall off their perch, they would ask for first dibs on the Mandarins. That oir they were devoted to drinking “antifreeze,” as they called cheap whiskey.
They did this vital work because the ground would soon freeze solid, and they had to dig the graves before it did. Any surprises meant the casket would be placed in a storage building on the edge of the cemetery till next spring.
Sam and Ed dug the graves by hand with shovels and a pickaxe. Both took pride in their nice straight sides, exactly 6 feet deep. “We’ll be the last people to let you down,” they would tell us.
Once they had done their work for the season, right after New Year’s, they always went to the Roundel for a fullscale dust-up. Half a dozen Mounties were needed pull all the combatants apart and get them cuffed.
They’d haul the brothers off to the lock-up. A day or two later, when they had recovered from too much “Newfie Screech” (180-proof moonshine), the circuit judge would give them 90 days in jail. For them and their friends, it was like an annual reunion,
You have to admire the brothers for seeing the positive side of it. As Sam explained, they’d have a warm place to stay, new clothes, warm showers, a soft bed and three square meals a day. They got clean clothes when they were let out and soft towels instead of the burlap feed bags they had at home. On Saturdays they got a special treat: bologna sandwiches on Bunny Bread.
This was also a busy season for the auto mechanics, both in the repair shops and the backyard cowboys. They were kept busy installing new electric radiator heaters and dipsticks to keep the oil somewhat warm, plus new heaters for the interiors.
The latter was both for comfort and because the cold air would otherwise crack seats and cushions. All three electric cords dangled out the front grill of the vehicles.
In big cities like Calgary and Edmonton, all the parking meters had electric outlets. In small towns, people ran extension cords everywhere. And woe to any miscreant who unplugged a car!
People coped with and survived winters by being creative.
Sam and Ed’s family, who were still living on the Frog Lake Cree Reserve, had a small herd of cattle. One winter when it was particularly cold, Old Man Fryingpan decided he was too old to go out and water the livestock.
So he instead cut out part of the exterior bathroom wall, right over the bathtub, with a chainsaw. That would be the new watering trough. Since they didn’t use the bathtub in winter anyway, he just nailed plywood over the opening in the spring.
So if you see me walking without a hat, gloves, scarf and don’t think I’m dressed enough for the weather, just know I appreciate your concern. I find it almost balmy here. It’s all relative.
