My sisters popped in for a visit the other day.
Checking on the old guy following another surgery (hopefully we're nearing the end of that annoying saga), which was very sweet and sisterly.
They dropped off some of our Dad's old tools and some of his woodcarving creations, as well as my long-misplaced 'Snoopy vs. the Red Baron' Christmas album. How is it I can't remember what I had for dinner yesterday, but can recall decades-old song lyrics?
Christmas bells, those Christmas bells
Ring up from the land
Asking peace of all the world
And goodwill to man
One of nature's most intriguing mysteries.
Their visit also reminded me of something I've missed for a while - the notion of actually going outside. See, they had tans. Not nasty, old shoe-leather tans, but a healthy colour that indicates they've been outdoors doing stuff. I gazed down at my own pasty legs and instantly wanted to cover up with a blanket.
A couple of years ago, also then post-surgery, I bemoaned a summer of missed tanning opportunity.
"I am paler than coconut meat. I make sour cream look like overcharred steak. A corncob pipe and a button nose and I could pass for Frosty the Snowman," I wrote at the time.
I couldn't image being lighter than that, but it's actually happened. At this point, I am translucent.
I was even jealous when the 13-year-old came home after a day at the river, looking for all the world like a lobster ("but I did reapply my sunscreen...."). Even the next day or two he spent slathering on moisturizer and proclaiming pain as he opened the fridge to stick his head in to cool down... I'd take that.
We've progressed a lot since the days of slathering ourselves in baby oil and believing sunburns were actually useful as a tanning base. We're certainly much more aware of the potential pitfalls and the need to use SPF 48,000 if we're fair-skinned and as we get older.
Even in recent years, I limited my time on the pool floatie, listening to '80s tunes (Skid Row is good for the soul) and actually reading a book (remember those?) to maximum 30-minute intervals.
My fake 'n' bake tanning bed days are also long gone and I'd never do the orange spray tan thing. But I'd still like a little colour. Shouldn't be too much longer now, thankfully. Outside, here I come.
Once you've overheard the "Mom, why is there a ghost walking through the produce section?" whispers during a brief trip to the grocery store, it can't happen soon enough.
PQB News/VI Free Daily editor Philip Wolf welcomes your questions, comments and story ideas. He can be reached at 250-905-0029 or via email at philip.wolf@blackpress.ca.
