Chinook
by George Hosier II  - November 1, 2007

The Question

Everywhere I go lately, I inevitably run into some grinning character who asks me the question, “Are you ready for winter?” What kind of question is that? I don’t care if it is an ancient Alaskan ritual. It’s primitive and degrading! The way the ritual works is that it must be performed upon every victim you can corner, beginning with the first snowfall, and continuing until somebody cold cocks you.

Why would you even want to ask somebody a sensitive personal question like that? That’s like saying, “So, have you ever declared bankruptcy?” Or, “Do you wear Depends?” Or, “Would you like me to recommend a good ugliatrician who can surgically implant a paper bag over your face?” Come-on, folks! I mean, there’s gloating, and then there’s gloating.

I suppose in a twisted sort of way I can understand some sicko wanting to satisfy his morbid curiosity as to whether anyone else has been crushed by the juggernaut of impending seasonal doom. What I cannot understand is twisting the assassin’s dagger, so to speak, by taunting them with it. I think laws need to be passed to eternally ban the “W” question in Alaska.

I fantasize of the day that I hear the sound of a helicopter rotors above me the instant somebody asks me if I’m ready for winter. A half dozen braided wool ropes slap the ground around my accoster, and a team of stocky bald men carrying MP5’s and wearing black BDU’s and tactical vests fast rope down. My attacker is surrounded before he knows what happened. The last thing I see in my fantasy is the perpetrator hog-tied on the ground, wearing a liberal coating of tar and feathers, as the stocky bald men slide a rail between his quivering knees.

In the meantime, I have to endure the agonizing question with a forced smile as I try to think of something intelligent to say in reply. It’s ridiculous, of course. Anything you say to a criminal bent on victimizing you is trivial and meaningless. However, if for no other reason than to preserve my own sense of personal dignity, I have experimented with a colorful variety of responses to the ineffable question. Some of the more mundane of the responses that I have used throughout the years follow:

“Oh, thank God!” (falling on knees, kissing questioner’s feet, then rising to shaking his hand vigorously for a good 90 seconds.) “You are an answer to prayer. Bring your chainsaw to my house tonight at 5:00. We should be able to get three or four cords cut before dark”

“I’m not saying another word until I talk to my lawyer.”

“Excuse me. Is that your nose, or are you eating a banana?”

“Winter?” (Looking at the ground with mild curiosity, then doing an exaggerated double take.) “Oh, No! You’ve got to be kidding me! Is that snow? I had no idea it was so late in the year. Excuse me, I have to run home and get ready for winter.”

“Does a salmon have feathers?”

“The real question is, ‘Is winter ready for me?’”

(In a hoarse Arkansas accent.) “That depends on your definition of ‘ready’.”

“Of course. Aren’t you? (Shaking head in condescending pity.) Don’t tell me you procrastinated again!”

(Squeezing eyes shut so tight the corneas wrinkle and jamming fingers in ears.) “Nyah, nyah, nyah! I can’t hear you. I can’t hear you! Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah! I caaaan’t heeeaar yoooou!”

“Who cares, man? Wanna come over to my place and party this weekend?”

“Why, no. Haven’t you heard? The Alaska State Legislature has voted to stop paying Permanent Fund Dividends. Instead they’re going to invest the Permanent Fund money into our own State fleet of weather modification chemtrail spraying aircraft. Alaska’s going to become the next fantasy tropical vacation getaway. They figure the surge of tourist dollars will boost our economy by 4000%.”

“If I tell you, I’ll have to shoot you.”

(Dropping to the ground in a fetal position, and speaking in a little boy voice.) Noooo! Mommy! Take the mean winter away! (Feigning a moment of rallying lucidity.) I need my therapist. Quick! His number is on a medical alert tag on my wrist. (Begin banging head against a rock obsessively.)

“I have no idea. My wife takes care of all that.”

“I am winter!” (Maniacal laugh.)

“As a matter of fact, I just got finished installing oil pan heating pads on the udders of my goats yesterday.”

“I was, but I got to feeling so guilty that I mailed all my firewood to a Darfur refugee camp in Chad, so they can start fires to boil rice to feed the starving children.”

“I’m sorry, can I see some identification, and proof that you are with the Department of Homeland Security?”

“I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t use that sort of language in the presence of ladies and children.”

“Naw, I think I’ll skip that this year.”

“Uh, can you clarify the question? When you say ‘ready for winter’, are you referring to vehicles winterized, firewood cut and stacked, full spectrum anti-SAD lighting installed, construction projects buttoned up, grill and mosquito magnet put away, winter clothes unpacked from storage, heat tape tested, drafty cracks squirted with spray foam, junk in the yard that I don’t want lost under the snow picked up, furnace and monitor serviced, pool drained, hay stocked, garden hose disconnected, snow shovels repaired, fuel tanks filled, ATVs parked, snow-machines un-tarped and gassed up, beard grown, skis waxed, or birdseed bought?”

“Isn’t the government supposed to take care of that? I thought that was why I pay taxes.”

“Hmmm, let me think. Sunglasses? Check. Suntan lotion? Check. Swimming trunks. Check. Golf Clubs. Check. Round trip ticket to Maui? Check. (Big grin.) Yep, I’m ready.”

“Oh, you betcha! I’m trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records for having the most body parts frostbitten. I still have my left earlobe, my right elbow, and my outie belly button to go. I’m hoping to get them frozen this winter.”

Actually, what most people don’t realize is that the biggest part of getting ready for winter is being mentally prepared. If you expect winter to be a nightmare, your expectations will be fulfilled. If you take it in stride it can actually be fun. Well, ok, maybe not fun, but funner than going stark raving nuts.

The need for mental preparation is never more obvious than when a person climbs into their vehicle after the first snow. Regardless of how long you have been in Alaska or how much experience you may have driving in snow and ice, the first few weeks of winter require a mental adjustment. Unfortunately, too many folks can’t figure out how to mentally adjust their driving habits, and thus, winter driving becomes their own personal chamber of horrors.

It seems like during the first few weeks after the first snow, you can find fragments of bumper, broken glass, spilled fluids and chips of paint at every intersection. Furthermore, at just about every curve you can find tire tracks going off into the ditch and ending in little craters of ice just the size and shape of spinning tires. I guess folks can’t remember that driving in snow and ice requires them to plan for three times the braking and following distance required for dry pavement.

Now that I think about it, perhaps I should practice what I preach. I should demonstrate enough mental flexibility to not take the “W” question personally. I should just let it slide like snow off of a ptarmigan’s back. I should probably even cheerfully embrace the ancient ritual. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll embrace it. So, my loyal readers, (heh, heh. Smirk.) are you ready for winter?

 

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