of mode and mackinaws
So I just got in from Saskatoon and my arms are -- well, they're cold, and so is the rest of me. Sask is a pretty frosty province this time of year. Nippy noodles, as Georgia Nicolson would say. Doesn't seem to bother the natives, who go on biking and hiking and chatting even though it is minus a billion with the windchill. Walking to the parking lot from the education building I thought my limbs would drop off. My driver actually threw her head back and said, That's fresh, eh? Much better than inside. I thought I was going to bake in that conference hall. I shared a glance with car mate and fellow author Glen Huser (Stitches, Skinnybones and the Wrinkle Queen -- great books) who as a Vancouverite is even wimpier than I. This is not fresh, he said. Fresh is a jump in the pool on a hot day. This is freezing. When I got back I was still cold so I headed for my closet to don (I love blogging, since I can use words I would never allow myself in fiction writing, like don and doff) my mackinaw, but I could not find it. I hunted high and low and side to side and I found a lot of things but not the sweater jacket. I asked Ed if he had seen it.
The red and black one? I took that, he said. I've had it for months.
Can I have it back?
No, he said.
There was a pause and then I asked, Why? And this is what he told me.
You don't deserve it, he said.
Well, Dad, see, that jacket is really cool, and you're ...
Go on, I said
What I mean is, you don't know how cool it is. It's the perfect weight and size. Everyone's wearing stuff exactly like that one right now, and I just know I look better in it than you. It would be wasted on you.
He was so earnest I had to work not to laugh.
So what you are saying is that the lame old guy never has a chance. The one time he finds something that is actually cool, he can't wear it?
Yes, said Ed. That's it exactly.
He went up to his room and came back with my mackinaw, which is like the one pictured only somehow cooler-- at least it looked cool on Ed. But darn it I was still cold. Doff that! I called. Doff that right now! But he didn't. I stole a hoodie from him. I don't know if it's lame or not, and I don't really care. The part of youth that worries about what everyone is wearing is not wasted on the young. They can have it.