Julius Caesar, and the Roman Empire

Couldn’t conquer the blue sky…

Everywhere you go, you always take the weather with you

Neil & Tim Finn (Crowded House)

Not sure how it’s been in your corner of the world, but I can state with absolute certainty that the weather over the past four months has been causing a significant amount of grief to inhabitants of southeastern Canada.  We Canadians have developed the capacity to tolerate imprisonment in our igloos for eight months of the year, in large part because we expect to be paroled between May and August (and, assuming good behavior, maybe even September).  Moreover, we expect the meteorological authorities to sanction the sporting of Hawaiian shirts, tank tops, Bermuda shorts and open-toed sandals.  Well, not this year!  May, June and July have been witness to well-below average temperatures.  And the sun has been missing in action, a victim of the abundant precipitation we’ve experienced over this time.

Yup, most of my friends and colleagues claim to be more stressed after returning from their vacations then before they left.  But isn’t it a stretch to claim that inclement weather is stressful?  Actually, thinking whether the weather is a stressor helps to clarify some of the vagaries associated with the concept of stress.

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When I dabble with paint, my mind’s eye envisages an accurate reproduction of the Mona Lisa. When I pick up my guitar, I imagine myself being able to caress it the way that Leo Kottke can (if you have never heard of Leo Kottke, get yourself one of his CDs, and relish in his authority over the instrument).  And when I try to sing, that little voice inside my head (not the one that comes out of my mouth) sounds just like Van Morrison during his classic performance of Caravan in The Last Waltz.

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How did it happen that their lips came together? How does it happen that birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that the dawn whitens behind the stark shapes of trees on the quivering summit of the hill? A kiss, and all was said.

- Victor Hugo -

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Those of you non-scientific types out there probably don’t know this (and maybe you don’t care, either), but Santa Claus is an enigma to the scientific community interested in determining the causes of behavior. Actually, to borrow a more eloquent quote from Churchill, Santa is a “riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.” I mean, think of it: How do you explain the behavior of someone who spends the entire year running the ultimate toy and gift factory, coordinating the efforts of a group of eccentric elves, and taking care of a group of whimsical reindeer?

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I’m a big fan of this time of year. No, not fall, Halloween. I like Halloween because it’s got something for everyone. Kids, of course, get to dress up however they want, perform low-level acts of mischief, and get rewarded for it. Adults who want to relive their childhoods can also don silly get-ups if they so choose, if not, they can be bemused by answering the doorbell and rewarding those tiny ghosts, goblins and other sundry spirits that go bump in the October 31 night. And finally, adults who don’t want to be bothered by it all can turn off all the lights in the house, heads down the basement and get in some good cuddling’ time with a loved one.

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