by jim holt
A million things remind me of Christmas and all but two or three are in Canada, under snow, waiting for me like a million hiding mammoths perfectly preserved.
It could be sunny here in Southern California – roses blooming into December: yellow, pink, red big as wee lion heads.
It could be raining in Toronto with gutter-fulls of rainwater rushing by every other house and loft and beach stretch that I recall being in or on or waking up inside….
In fact, the 401 could be bone dry right through Kingston with absolutely none of the farms on to Smiths Falls dotted with cookie enamel islands of snow but once I turn into Manordale the roads are suddenly, always, ribbed with banks of neatly contoured lines as if a big lazy finger stroked white paint through a fingerpainting.
Once inside the painting, I join all the other wee mammoths on cross-country skies, gulping egg nog, watching Die Hard (1 & 2), joining Bobby Helms in a million other memories where Jingle Bell Rock underscores Christmas: on stage at work, downstairs with shortbread and, although not confirmed, quite possibly Lindsay Lohan in Mean Girls singing the song in a tiny red costume….
So, for now, while the oranges on my tree shed their lizard green for robust hues of orange, I turn out the lights, and put in a DVD of digital Christmas: Die Hard (1 & 2) as mentioned, It’s a Wonderful Life (of course), A Christmas Carol (the b&w version), Charlie Brown’s Christmas (God Bless You too, Vince Guaraldi) … OK, Mean Girls …. after all, Rachel McAdams is Canadian.
