WHERE THE BEAR AND THE CARIBOU ROAM

I take my job as wife and mother seriously so, when our family had to make an emergency trip to Canada last week I reminded them that we were going to a funeral and would be outside for at least half an hour.

“Bring a warm coat. It will be cold. Besides, you never know when you might have to get out and push the car or something.”

We only had 24 hours to pack and I knew my family wouldn’t hear me unless I repeated myself at least half a hundred times. Finally, when my throat was raw, I considered my job done.

I was right. Canada was cold, about 30 below zero and the streets in Cardston were snow packed.

I was wrong about my family though. Apparently half a hundred times and sacrificing my throat were not enough to get them to pay attention to me.

Rick brought a light waterproof jacket and Garret, who I have long suspected was brain dead, wore long sleeves and a smile.

Adam, who had flown in and didn’t have the benefit of my wisdom or lungs, at least had a warm sweater but it wasn’t enough.

My family hates it when I am right and I hesitate to brag, but I always am. Our car would not make it up the hill to the church so Adam and Garret had to get out and push then race beside it to jump in while it was going.

We had the single honor of holding up the entire funeral procession as Adam and Garret, one more time, slid on the ice to push our car up a hill then race to catch hold of the doors and jump in the back seat without breaking their necks.

Rick was so cold at the gravesite that he stood behind me and hugged me to him for warmth. He shook me so hard my teeth were rattling around in my head like popcorn just starting to pop.

My brother Jeff was up from South America and he was feeling the cold more than we were even though he was wearing a heavy coat that wrapped around him twice.

When we were back at the church, he overheard some family members from Canada complaining about the cold and decided to unleash his humor on them.

“You guys act like you have no choice living in Canada. No one is holding a gun to your head saying you have to stay here. The borders are open folks. When you die, the Lord will say, ‘You guys are so stupid. I made Canada for the bears, moose and caribou to roam, not for humans. But no, you started building houses there so I made it 45 degrees below zero and you still built houses.’ Pull your heads out people. You don’t have to stay here. Go south. Even the birds have sense to go south and I only made them with a brain the size of a peanut.”

Everyone laughed. I on the other hand looked at my family and shook my head. Case in point—moving south does not make you smarter.