With the giant lottery draw this past weekend, I reflected, as I always do, on what I would do with the jackpot if I actually purchased a ticket and subsequently won. My conclusion: I would get the f*** out of Calgary.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice city and everything, somewhat friendly people, etc., etc. The thing is, I’ve lived here my whole life and a) I wouldn’t mind a little broadening adventure, and b) this place is terrible in the winter. I wouldn’t move to anywhere tropical, as I actually really like the change of seasons and snow on the ground. I would move to someplace where winter is actually only three months long. I remember as a child being fascinated by the idea that November is an autumnal month. November! To me, winter goes from mid-October to mid-April. Not to mention the not-uncommon gigantic May snowfalls. Or the July that I stood amid snow-flurries and high winds for a Stampede breakfast. Groundhog Day is coming up and I always laugh a bit: on February 2, six more weeks of winter IS an early spring.
But maybe I shouldn’t complain, even as I layer the kids into their enormous winter coats and boots, fielding arguments about whether or not mittens are necessary when it is 20 below, and yes, you do need to wear your hood if you refuse to wear your hat. Etcetera. Because even as I’m performing these tedious motherly duties, there are other mothers in this city who are not bundling their children due to the absence of items with which to bundle. This city of prosperity, which lures tens of thousands with promises of wealth and jobs, only to discover the crippling cost of living. This city, which has been insulated for so long, is starting to feel the pain of the economic crisis.
The air is positively biting. Even with the clear Alberta-blue sky and sunshine, the cold is painful.
Leave a Reply