White Christmas? Snow? Have you ever tried driving in the stuff? Yes, snow is beautiful, and it makes everything look fresh and pristine and virginal.
But it hides an ugly truth.
If you're a resident of this area, and not just reading this on the fly during a visit from places where common sense dwells, chances are you haven't had enough experience slipping along unplowed highways and byways to truly appreciate how truly nasty the reality of snow can be.
If you're from the Interior or the Prairies, or indeed, anywhere east of Vedder Crossing, you probably don't realize how hard it is for us coast dwellers to negotiate roads infested with "other guys" who have absolutely no understanding of how to deal with climate conditions foreign to our decidedly un-Canadian geography.
You realize, of course, it's never "us."
"We" all know how to get by, just fine, during those rare occasions when the roadsides turn white and there's enough of the white stuff to scare the snowploughs out of hiding (noting, of course, that Lower Mainland snowploughs are very, very timid).
Just ask around after the next snowfall, how the drive in to work was. Everyone will tell you, "It wouldn't have been so bad, if those other guys knew how to drive in snow."
And if they're honest, they'll also tell you that white garbage should stay up on the highest parts of the highest hillsides, where skiers and other sillies are welcome to enjoy it.
But hey! If we have to endure the white stuff down at our level once in a while, we can always take heart in its transitory nature.
While for folks in other parts of Canada the first snowfall is the last time they will see solid ground until spring, snow in our little corner of the universe is as fleeting as a salmon run on an Enbridge pipeline route.
So, while I hate to put a damper on Christmas, I believe the Bingster's rendition of the old Irving Berlin favourite would be more appropriate for those of us living in Wet Coast if it were crooned thusly: I'm dreaming of a wet Christmas, Just like the ones I used to know: Where the blacktop glistens, And children listen For boots splashing down the road.
I'm dreaming of a wet Christmas With every raindrop on the lawn.
May your days be dreary and dull, But may all your Christmases be full.
I have other dreams, too, for this Christmas, of course.
For instance, right now I'm dreaming of some goofball finding his remote to shut off his car alarm before it drives me absolutely round the bend.
And I'm also dreaming of people clearing the snow off their cars before heading into traffic, particularly off their headlights and taillights, so others can see them coming and going, and also off all of their windows, not just their front windscreens, so they can keep track of the world around them as they attempt to get from one place to another - just a little less obliviously.
On a more ethereal level, I'm dreaming of a federal government of the people that is run by the people, for the people, and not a Harper government of policy wonks working for oil companies.
I'm dreaming of environment ministries that sell us on the environment, instead of selling the environment to the highest bidder.
I'm also dreaming of a happy Christmas.
It's good to know that at least one dream has a real possibility of coming true.
Bob Groeneveld is the editor of the Langley Advance
