Mr. Frankl brings enlightenment to April winter
A beautiful, sunny Easter weekend became a winter hellscape yesterday morning. I wasn't surprised. My birthday is Sunday, April 19, and in 28 years past I can only remember one or two birthdays that weren't winterized. My lack of surprise does not intone approval or acceptance, however. Like any Canadian who illogically hopes for Florida weather while living on the edge of the frozen tundra-- like any Canadian who experiences each Spring like a revelation that stirs her soul to repentance and Oprah-like edification-- my 6:30 a.m. response was, "Find someone who has a whole bottle of sleeping pills I can borrow, quick. Or a gun. A gun would be faster." I didn't say it, but I thought it.
To experience inches of snow after days of 20 degree weather is to re-experience the horror of getting your first period ten days after your tenth birthday. It's waiting all week to watch some brain-deadening, soap opera-ish Grey's Anatomy on Thursday night only to be smacked in the face with a re-run.
We act all heroic when we don't shut down the town on a regional day of mourning such as this but it can't be safe; suicidal thoughts are the only normal reaction when Hope rests indefinitely in a coma and I don't feel comfortable having my children transported to school by a bus driver who's identifying with Sylvia Plath.
Garrison Keillor once said, "God gave us the month of March to show people who don't drink what a hangover is like." Days like this surely resemble the anguish that is March and qualify for the same degree of indignation, if not an even greater degree, having had our expectations trampled upon so haughtily. At least we expect March to suck.
Though he loves and admires the aspect of Garrison Keillor, my husband Mr. Victor Frankl, annoyed by our 9-year-old son's dramatic bemoaning this morning, shone these rays of perspective upon us:
"Happiness is a choice. God gives us days like this to show us that we're not in control. There are few things we can control. The weather might be horrible, your health might be poor, someone might hurt you and you have little to no control over any of it. Only you can choose your mindset."
See, I thought God gave us April winters to unite us all in a bond of hatred. Nothing creates unification like seething, unadulterated hatred-- just ask my extended family. You might be a complete stranger who poisons all the neighborhood cats for pooping in your garden but if I see you shoveling your driveway in April, what should be the sweetest month of the year, I will march over with my shovel and together we will make furious love to a soundtrack of Marilyn Manson and Twisted Sister's We're Not Gonna Take It, donned in our lingerie of parkas and toques. You will forever be mine and I'll forever be yours because we knew each other one sorry day in April, as only Canadians can.
