November 19, 2009
Years ago back in Saskatoon I was part of the set up and performance of a Winter concert (poetry, music, skits)—Sundog it was called for the rainbows ‘round the sun you can see with particular vividness on a Prairie winter’s iciest days. Two of the organizers’ children were making a lot of commotion and getting in the way. A parent gave them the most ambivalent dressing down I’ve ever heard—scolding himself as much as them for insisting they stop acting like children, or go someplace where they wouldn’t interfere with things. “So if you don’t want to play that game of being boring adults, you don’t have to. But you have to play someplace else.” I watched the two children a moment after he’d walked away. The young girl broke the silence by saying to the younger boy, “Come on. We’ll be adults.” So for the next two hours that’s what they played at; as we all do.