I shake my head in total incomprehension at the furor surrounding Don Cherry. But I guess that’s because the number of times I have watched him on television is exactly zero. I gather there’s a hockey game tonight and for the first time in decades he will not be commenting on it and the nation is shivering with anticipation. I am rarely embarrassed to be Canadian, but the fuss about this appalling blowhard bigot is one of those times. Who the @#$#@ cares?
Okay, asking for trouble. Many do. Do not trample on hockey! Or maybe big beefy Canadians will stalk you as Trump stalked the dignified and articulate Marie Yovanovitch yesterday. What a spectacle. All standards of common decency thrown to the dogs – and Cherry was part of that trend.
It’s majorly winter in a way that’s incomprehensible so early – it feels like an affront. What did we do to deserve this cold in mid-November? We had an exceptionally mild October, that’s what, and this is the price. We’re hoping it’s some kind of unpleasant blip and the temperatures will settle into more normal for this time of year. No guarantees.
Eli spent last night here; my seven-year old companion came into my room, disgustingly perky, at 7 a.m. I persuaded him to grant me a few more minutes in the warmth of my bed, but then it was downstairs for breakfast and games and reading stories. His parents have taken themselves away for the weekend, and Anna has just written that they may not come home. We’ll have to go and drag them back. In the meantime, a bunch of Thomas’s relatives are still living in Anna’s small apartment. No wonder they needed to get away.
This afternoon, Eli and I watched Klaus, on Netflix. I’d read a rave review, well deserved – it’s a beautiful animated film about the imagined origins of Santa Claus, fantastically rich in detail and humour. Highly recommended. Eli wanted to watch Teen Titans, and Glamma said no. He gave me his Xmas list: 3000 Beyblades, an iPhoneX, and a drum kit. Santa may have to disappoint. “Marcus has two phones,” he said. “Most of my friends have phones.” He and his friends are seven! I’m glad I’m not a parent in these complicated times. When famous TV sports pundits and the President of the United States behave worse than the most ill-mannered toddler, how to teach children manners, kindness, compassion, decency?
The best, though, was getting Eli to write a letter to his brother; we put it in an envelope with a stamp and he was to mail it on the way home. He’ll be there when Ben receives and opens it. Glamma doing her best for the Canadian Postal Service, and a new generation of writers.