March 28, 2020
I can tell by the lack of traffic outside that you are mostly in your homes now, and while it may seem unsettling at first, there is comfort in knowing you are all being safe. I know, some people are still hurrying, trying to get all they need to settle in, but for those of you already tucked in, I thought I'd post another blog here. I was thinking about something I said earlier, about waiting for a storm. It reminded me of one of our great family stories - the stuff of legends, really. To appreciate this story, you need to know some things about my older sister. 1. She is fearless in a crisis (at least on the outside, where it counts!) 2. She does not suffer fools easily (me, being one of the biggest fools in her life). 3. She would probably give her own life for those she loves; certainly, her own comfort. Now, when we were very young, a great blizzard struck Waterloo Region without warning. It was 1978, and I was just six years old; my sister only eight. We had trudged to school as usual, over freshly fallen and frozen snow pack. I remember this so clearly, this little flash of memory on that extraordinary day. The snow looked as though it had been scattered with diamonds. I was gleefully walking over top of it, and she, being older and a little bigger, was falling in, almost to her chest as we walked across the frozen field to get to school. I kept having to turn around and pull her up, laughing. I loved that I could walk unencumbered while she fell in! Finally, we reached our school and got out of our soaked snow suits. She went off to her classroom and I squished off to mine, having stepped in a puddle and soaked my socks. At some point, around noon, our teacher stopped talking and just stared at the wall of white outside our classroom windows. Snow was working its way in around the windowsills, and the sound of the wind was overwhelming. The walls shook. I know, it seems odd that I would remember that so clearly, but I think it was the fear on her face that got through to me. It was nothing I had seen before. Adults were always supposed to know what to do, and she was afraid. Now, I don't remember this next part, but my parents have told me that the school principal closed the school and sent us all home, as soon as the sky cleared a little. Before setting out, my sister made sure my galoshes were tightly buckled over my shoes, pants tucked in and snow pants secured over top. She pulled my hat over my head, covering my eyes, and I shoved it back up with a mittened hand and peered out at her. “You need a scarf. Where’s your scarf?” “ I dunno”. I always had great answers for the things I lost. And I was always losing things. She sighed and wrapped her own scarf around my head, coiling it like a turtleneck and a shroud, all in one. And we left, together, in the bright sunshine. I can remember looking up, and seeing sun dogs around the sun. “Rainbows!”, I said. She looked at them and frowned a little. “Lets go.” And so, we headed out in the cold for home, which was almost a mile away. It was hard going, since the sidewalks weren’t shovelled. I wanted to walk in the street, but she wouldn’t let me. I can remember the ache in my legs, and how I wanted to stop, but she wouldn’t let me. About half way home, the wind struck again, disorienting, in its white fury. I could hardly catch my breath, and the scarf which had been soaked with my breath froze until it was crunchy and rasped against my lips. I started to cry, and she turned and pulled the scarf right over my eyes. She had to yell, so I could hear her, and said, “Hold onto my coat. Don’t let go! Stay close.” I grabbed the hem of her coat with both hands and we continued through the snow, me following in the path she made. At one point, she stopped, and I remember banging into her. She yelled in my ear, “We have to go up the hill now!” I pulled my scarf down and saw only blinding white. She pulled it back up and, holding onto each other, we climbed and crawled through the deep and drifting snow, until we got to the top of the hill where our house was. My mother cried when she saw us. My father had gone out looking for us, and I remember her pressing her dishtowel to her eyes when he came in, safe at last. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the ferocity of his hug as he pulled us into his arms. Safe at home, is a big theme for me in my songwriting, and in the way I try to keep my family together in these uncertain times. Together, apart. My parents are safe in their home. My sisters are safe at their homes. And I am safe as well. Aside from going between my empty shop and home, and being with those closest to me - my family, my parents, I know I can weather this storm, too. And I will see my sisters when this is over. The storm we are weathering will pass. The skies will clear. And we will, once again, be able to hold the ones we love. Take comfort in that. When I think about what could have happened, it frightens me. The house we turned at was the very last one before a vast and frozen field. But somehow, she led the way. I will never know how she knew where to turn. Was it her inner compass, or was she able to catch a glimpse of the house we turned at? I do know, that if it were not for her sense of calm and purpose, we wouldn’t have made it. I do know, in my heart of hearts, that it was her faith that we would be alright, that led us home. -Carla

March 29, 2020
I have a little update for you about our great adventure in the snow. I just called my mom, to read her my post, and she filled in the rest of my story. Our house sat on a circle at the top of a hill, and the street our house was on wound down the hill to the bottom, where my classmate lived. We had often taken the shortcut straight up the hill from his house to ours when walking home from school, and it was this route that my sister intended to take that day, once she realized we had missed the street. The snow was so deep on the sidewalk winding up the hill, my mother doubts we could have walked that way anyway. It seems there was another child walking with us, named Daniel, who was in my class, and my sister wasn't just leading me home. I find it funny that I can remember certain moments so clearly, but not this. Apparently, when we reached the bottom of the hill (that I couldn't see), she did stop, and we started to climb the snowbank together (this is the great hill I remember?). It was then that Daniel's father called to us. He was standing in the snow with their door open, keeping watch. Theirs was, indeed, the last house before that field, and he was worried his son might go too far and be lost. He was waiting for his son and he saved all of us. He brought us into his house and called our mother. She had tried to walk out during that lull in the storm, to meet us, coming down the street side of our houses. She had been forced to turn back because the snow there was up to her thighs and when the wind struck up again, visibility was too poor to continue. She thought it impossible that our principal would have sent us out alone in that storm. So, she called my father at work to go and get us from school. When he found the school almost deserted, and that we had been sent out in the storm, I can only imagine what he must have said to our principal (Dad wouldn't tell me, exactly - but I'm sure it was good!) Somehow, Dad learned that we were at Daniel's house and he came to get us. That was where he hugged us. And then we went home.