A Snowy February

 

It’s hard to know what to write about these days, given the state of the world. I hung my Canadian flags inside my window on Flag Day on Feb. 15^th, the 60^th anniversary of the Maple Leaf flag. Canadian patriotism has been on the upswing, and I am here for it.

A writing friend was cautioning on the dangers of patriotism veering towards nationalism. She explained it this way: “patriotism is a feeling of love and loyalty for one's country; nationalism, on the other hand seems to emphasize disdain or even hatred for other countries and a feeling of superiority for one’s own”.

My thoughts are that what Canadians are feeling right now is patriotism, and in general (and I admit this is a generality), Canadians don’t have it in them to be nationalistic. (However, the truck convoys come to mind and I am glad we’ve been able to take back our flag). We’re not overtly patriotic enough to segue into nationalism. And besides, given the recent weather, it’s just too darn cold and snowy. Nationalism requires feverish aggression. Wintry conditions don’t rouse those kinds of emotions.

Speaking of a cold, snowy February, we’ve had massive amounts of snow. I’m so thankful not only because, living in a condo, I do not have to shovel, but also because, being fully retired, I can simply choose to stay home.  I have no place I absolutely ‘have’ to be. With one medical appointment coming up, everything else is pretty much flexible and up for negotiation. 

Activities and get-togethers can be re-scheduled or called off. Groceries? One can always rummage around in the fridge or kitchen cupboards and come up with a girl dinner (my favourite kind of dinner – an assortment of things thrown on a plate, must include cheese and nuts). This lack of commitment to obligatory appointments and schedules suits me just fine, especially during a snowy February.

I’ve known for a long while that I am commitment phobic. I tend to plan my trips no more than a couple of months prior; I try to hedge my bets on invitations that have some leeway (a proposed theatre or daytrip tossed out months prior). I try not to commit to anything too far in advance because how will I know how I’m going to feel on that day? (I think the younger generation now refers to it as: what is your vibe today?). If I’m craving solitude, how am I going to muster up the requisite energy that socializing requires? I can commit to quiet dinners or get-togethers with people who are genuinely comfortable in their own skin and expect no command performance from you. They can be themselves and allow you to be yourself.

It is said though (rightfully so I suppose) that humans are social creatures, and we need each other to stay alive and thrive. But it is the level and frequency of interaction needed that differs from one person to the next. A big Superbowl party where people are animatedly talking over each other? Count me out. Please. But it’s not just the number of people involved (although I do find noise level does matter a great deal). A small dinner in which participants are genuinely engaged in interesting and intelligent conversation (like the one I hosted this month) is very different and much more enjoyable than a similar small party where people are merely engaged in small talk (weather, latest purchases, complaint-of-the-day).

 Is it just me making these distinctions in the quality of social interactions? Sometimes I wonder if I’m being ungenerous in my assessments. They say any level of physical exercise is better than no exercise at all. But is any level of social interaction better than no interaction? I’m skeptical. But maybe that’s just me. Or maybe it’s just a snowy February in a world gone crazy that demands solitude and hibernation.