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Shall I begin with the Ides of March?
According to the Roman calendar — which no one has referred to for the last many centuries — the Ides of March begin on the 15th of the month. It was the day of the Roman calendar in 44 BC when Julius Caesar was assassinated.
Is anyone mourning him in 2025?
Not I. Nor certainly you.
But the Ides of March are a nice launch for someone writing about the month when we non-Roman Canadians start stowing our winter gear and begin optimistically enjoying spring and summer.
Winter is challenging for this part of the world. But Canadians — at least those of us who stay north — tough it out
Should we wait for the Ides of April?
Nah! Let’s start the wonderful period when we brave northerners can look ahead to shorts, T-shirts, sandals.
Warmth — or at least non-frigidity. The teens will be out in cool gear.
No sandals yet. But sneakers for sure.
So let’s join them in spirit to celebrate the good weather coming … soonish.
Shall we start by listing the winter gear that’s going to be happily stored?
The heavy coat, the lined gloves, the tuques, the long undies, the thick, itchy socks … all to be cleaned and stashed for at least six months.
Should we whip out the Ts, shorts and sandals? Too soonish.
But Canadian warmth is on the way. And that makes us prematurely happy.
Having spent winter watching hockey — at least in Canadian cities where teams were more competitive than my beloved Canadiens — should a septuagenarian get stoked about sports?
Absolutely.
The regular National Hockey League season ends April 17. That means most teams will battle for another month of increasing tension to determine playoff positions.
Then there’s the highly competitive (we hope) post-season action that will be played out for weeks and weeks.
This will be very exciting for millions of Canadians … except me, the old fart whose not-so-distant youth celebrated Stanley Cup parades in downtown Montreal.
They were fun. In student days, my friends and I had a few midday beers and joined the celebratory mobs.
Maybe I should be personally relieved that the Habs are out of the picture … again. I might be too old to join the Cup cavorters.
My loving team is at the rebuilding stage. That means a possible championship would be at my late ’70s … or early ’80s.
Could a septuagenarians possibly handle a downtown parade? For the Cup or Santa Claus?
Maybe on television.
This is the time of year when I assess the house I’m barely occupying.
No, I haven’t spent winter down south. The cold season has largely been spent with my partner.
Her place is a shortish Quebec distance from the house I bought new for less than $70,000 in the late 1980s.
I’ve still got a ton of stuff there. Among the souvenirs:
- The room in which my daughter grew up … still packed with her growing-up gear
- A big comfy bed
- Two television sets, one in the bedroom and a super 50-inch set in the basement
- Several collars, leashes and tags for the late dogs I loved
- An elegant soup tureen that was a wedding present from a longtime friend
- Maracas my late aunt picked up many decades ago in Cuba
- A huge dining room table
- A large painting of the high school I loved
- Many hundreds of CDs and DVDs I no longer use
- Mysterious cooking gadgets in the kitchen.
I could go on; but the stuff in my old house brings back too many mixed feelings.
I’m still paying for heat and electricity in the house I’ve almost abandoned. And I still drop by often, exchanging greetings with my old neighbours.
I always got along with them. And I spent good times raising my daughter and maintaining my marriage … for as long as we managed.
Hit it, Barbra Streisand: Memories.
— Mike Boone writes the Life in the 70s column. [email protected]