May 25. 2022
This past weekend here in
Ontario, we celebrated Victoria Day. Named for the late Queen, it commemorates
her birthday, and is always the Monday closest to (but not after) May 24th.
The Victoria Day weekend is similar to the Memorial Day weekend in the U.S. only
in that it serves as the unofficial beginning of summer.
Through the years when I was growing
up, I looked forward to this weekend each year because it was the time of
fireworks. Back in the late 1950s through all my childhood, we Canadians had our
major fireworks displays to celebrate Queen Victoria’s birthday and no, it didn’t
matter that she was long gone.
I can easily bring to mind the
very first firecracker I ever lit. In those days, yes, the little packages of
explosives (that looked like mini sticks of TNT) were quite legal to buy, and
easily available for kids to get on their own. My daddy was right there with
me, coaching me through my first one. I had the “punk” in one hand and the
small red explosive with a wick in the other. I lit the firecracker…and in the
excitement of the moment threw the punk away instead of the firecracker.
My daddy of course stepped
forward and slapped that tiny explosive out of my five-year-old grip, sending
it a safe distance away. Knowing myself, I likely cried. Also, there were no
big commercial fireworks displays in our area. We did see pretty sparkly colors
in the sky, though, because the neighbors pooled their resources and then
together put on a lovely display for the entire neighborhood.
When I was a young teen,
several years after the death of my father, my mother took me to the first
large show held in Hamilton that was put on by the Sertoma Club (Sertoma stands
for “service to mankind”). Called their Bang O Rama promotion, there was entertainment
provided by various performers with a marching band or two thrown in, and all that
began before dusk. The highlight of the evening’s entertainment, of course, was
the largest fireworks display my mother and I had ever seen.
As a young adult, fireworks as
the highlight of this weekend were overtaken by the more “grown up” pursuits of
friends gathering, with music, cookouts and beer. Colloquially the weekend was
called “May Two-Four”, and not just because it was the weekend closest to May
24. You see, here in Canada the popular size for a case of beer is 24 bottles. That’s
what the two-four stands for in this quaint saying. In our early married years
my beloved would go off with his male buddies for a camping/fishing weekend.
The camping/fishing was the stated reason, but the true reason was seeing just
how many “24s” they could consume.
Then David quit drinking
around 1983 and so far, he hasn’t resumed. And as the kids got older, they became
our focus for the long May weekends. That meant that fireworks once more became
the central attraction of this weekend. We were faithful in getting them out to
where there were public fireworks displays, and often other attractions, too. We
had our lawn chairs and blankets and some coffee in the thermos so we could sit
in comfort as we oohed and ahhed. We also had excited and happy kids at the end
of the day, so it was all good.
Sometime in the late 1990s we here
in Canada switched to having our larger public displays of fireworks on Canada
Day, which is July 1. But when I was a child, Victoria Day was the only
firecracker day of the year.
I might miss the beauty and
wonder of seeing those explosive colors decorate the night skies, but I don’t
at all miss the often cold, dampish atmosphere we endured in pursuit of the
large and spectacular shows. The kids never minded the weather and as a plus,
they sure did sleep well once we got them to bed, afterwards.
This past weekend’s weather
was one of the most traumatic in our neck of the woods in a very long time. A
massive line of thunderstorms passed through Ontario on Saturday—and accompanying
that group of storms, were derecho winds as well as a small tornado. People
died, and that sure doesn’t happen around here very often. As of Monday morning
it was reported that eight people had lost their lives—one of them just down
the road from this small town, at a camp site that also has a public swimming
area, a site that we’ve visited many times in the past. Loss of life due to
storms is horrific at anytime, no matter how many perish. On top of that, hundreds
of thousands of people ended up without electricity for several days. And while
it had been plenty warm before the storms rolled through, they brought chilly
temperatures in their wake.
I turned the furnace on again
Monday morning. It’s a simple thing to do, just the press of a button. And no,
I no longer care about the principle: “we shouldn’t need the heat on in the
last week or so of May. Tough it out and put on a sweater!”
It’s not that I’ve given up my
principles. I’ve simply adjusted them to fit my current reality (translated: I
already wore a sweater as well as a blanket). My new guiding principle is kind
of like, “I shouldn’t have to shiver in my own home in the last week or so of
May. Turn that furnace on!”
I have a similar new principle
saved up for late fall, in the event we get an out of season heat wave—only that
principle involves the air conditioner, and to hell with what anyone may say.
If we get a heat wave on November 1, you can bet that A/C will be going on.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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