Wind Chill Redux

By David Martin Ottawa, ON

I am told that the Inuit have some sixty words for snow... for different kinds of snow. That doesn't surprise me; they see a lot of it. I live considerably south of the tree line, but even I have seventeen words for snow -- none of them usable in public.
~Arthur Black

"Cold enough for ya?" Frankly, no. It won't be cold enough for me until your lips are frozen shut and you are physically incapable of asking such inane questions.

What is it about winter weather that turns people into blithering idiots? How come normally intelligent beings start spewing forth vacuous meteorological comments?

At first, I assumed that winter temperatures must freeze the lobe of the human brain that governs common sense. How else to explain such time-wasting observations as: "Boy, it's cold outside!" and "How about that snow?" and "Lookit that ice!"

But now I think there must be another reason. After all, not every member of the species insists on stating the obvious over and over again.

The only explanation I can offer is that these folks actually like winter. Why else would they continually underscore its least charming attributes on a daily basis?

Personally, I don't care for winter. And in the case of something I don't like, I find the less said, the better.

I don't enjoy dwelling on the negative things in my life. That's why you won't hear me talking about death, taxes or our longest, loneliest season: winter. It only serves to make me miserable.

So when I hear people standing by the window announcing "Hey, it's snowing!" I have to assume that they are happy about it. Either that or they possess a mean streak beyond the sadistic.

My preferred method for dealing with winter's charms is to say nothing. In my view, winter is a six-month ordeal that is best endured in silence.

There is no need to parse every aspect of this season from hell. I am well aware that winter is cold, snowy and dark. Rather than endlessly remind myself of these obvious facts, I'd prefer to at least temporarily forget them.

But many people, it seems, can't get enough of winter. Despite having experienced it dozens of times before, they insist on asking "Hey, did you see that freezing rain?" or "How about that snowstorm?"

How about that snowstorm, indeed. I just spent ten minutes putting on boots, mitts, a toque, a scarf and three layers of clothing. I spent another twenty minutes shovelling out the driveway and ten more minutes scraping snow and ice off the car. Let's just say I'm not in the mood to joyfully kibbutz about that "amazing snowstorm."

If there's a death in someone's family, how do you react? That's right. You quietly approach the person and succinctly express your sorrow with a quick "I'm sorry." Or you leave the person alone. As far as I know, you don't say "Boy, was that some death!" or "How about that corpse?"

Well, that's the same approach you should take when it comes to winter. If there has been a nasty winter event (e.g. -- temperature below minus twenty-five degrees, more than fifteen centimetres of snow or more than five millimetres of ice on the windshield), just let me mourn in peace. Or, if you must, simply say "I'm sorry" and move on.

Don't ask me "Did your car start?" or "Did you get your driveway shovelled?" I made it in to work, didn't I? Your insensitive and silly questions are like road salt on an open wound.

It's only January and it's going to be very cold for a while. And it's going to be snowy, slushy, icy and unpleasant for months after that. I know that. You know that. We all know that.

So do me a favour, please. Don't talk to me about winter. I don't need a gleeful discussion about the wind chill factor or whether or not we broke any records.

Unless, of course, it's happening somewhere else. If Halifax got two feet of snow then I want to hear all about it.

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