{"id":19443,"date":"2017-12-20T14:41:40","date_gmt":"2017-12-20T19:41:40","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.newspapers-online.com\/auroran\/?p=19443"},"modified":"2017-12-20T14:41:40","modified_gmt":"2017-12-20T19:41:40","slug":"brocks-banter-silver-white-winters","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.newspapers-online.com\/auroran\/brocks-banter-silver-white-winters\/","title":{"rendered":"BROCK’S BANTER: Silver White Winters"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Brock Weir<\/strong><\/p>\n

I\u2019m continually reminded that sarcasm simply doesn\u2019t translate well in the wilds of the internet.
\nThrough the written word, it is rather difficult to sufficiently convey the nudge-nudge-wink-wink so often present in verbal communication. Without an emoji, readers are often unaware that you\u2019re raising your eyebrow quizzically, rolling your eyes as the words pass your lips, or that your voice is taking on a tone, usually a half-octave higher than your own, that could only be described as mocking \u2013 even though the person you might be imitating sounds nothing whatsoever like the sound spewing forth from your mouth.
\nIt is very much a twenty-first century problem, but recently I\u2019ve come to see \u2013 or fallen victim to \u2013 the very opposite of the above: people seeing sarcasm where there isn\u2019t any to be found. No, really.
\nPerhaps my online persona comes with a level of built-in snark, a perception that despite my occasional earnestness, there is something a little bit cockeyed bubbling away below the surface. Sure, this perception is often accurate, but every once in a while that genuine earnestness does poke through.
\nTake, for instance, the first half of last week when we were preparing for what was to be the first significant snowfall of the season.
\nI mused about one of my favourite things associated with a snowfall and, evidently, many of my heat-seeking friends assumed it was a sarcastic jibe. Yet, it wasn\u2019t. Despite being born in the dying days of summer, I am very much a winter baby at heart and, in the end, some of my very own favourite things are incomprehensible to those who prefer to bask in the sun.
\nSo, as I sit here at my desk preparing to head into the city for a traditional viewing of The Sound of Music, I thought it appropriate in this, our last edition of 2017, to expand upon this unlikely favourite thing that elicited such a response and, taking a page out of Fraulein Maria\u2019s book, expounding upon it.<\/p>\n

Bright copper kettles
\nand warm woollen mittens
\nAlthough we have more or less collectively moved past the days of bright copper kettles, the same warm feeling is still with me during the Christmas season. An enduring tradition in our household each year, after the Queen\u2019s Christmas Message, is to turn on the modern day counterparts to a bright copper kettle, the decidedly less bright and nothing-remotely-close-to-copper griddle or waffle iron and whip up a scratch batch of gingerbread pancakes.
\nAlthough there is something to be said for complete originality, in this case, a hand-up from Aunt Jemima is nothing to be ashamed of.
\nThe spice and molasses of the finished product warms you from the inside out and the smell of the gingerbread throughout your house is a welcome one to come back to after a delightful family reunion.
\nThat\u2019s sarcasm, folks.
\nAs for the warm woollen mittens, I\u2019m not a particular fan.
\nLeather gloves with fleece lining do the trick for me, but when it comes to socks at this time of year, nothing will do but 100 per cent wool.
\nThere is an age factor here. I don\u2019t know if women go through the same thing, but there comes a time in every man\u2019s life where, all of a sudden, you\u2019re alarmed to find socks rising fast on your list of Top 10 gift ideas. Up until a certain age, there is nothing you\u2019d like to find under the tree than a six-pack of new socks. But, come that magical year that is different for everyone, it shoots straight to the top.
\nI\u2019m there, I\u2019m old, let\u2019s move on. But as much as men-of-a-certain age would love to open up a new pair of slippers this year, for me it\u2019s all about the thick woolly socks to wear around the house.<\/p>\n

Brown paper packages
\ntied up with strings
\nThis is becoming something of a lost art.
\nAdmittedly, it is an art I\u2019ve never been able to master.
\nFrom the time I was first trusted with a roll of wrapping paper, a pair of scissors and a roll of scotch tape, it was pretty much a crap shoot on whether the paper I lovingly carved from the roll would ultimately be too small to cover the gift, or large enough to wrap a lifetime\u2019s supply of whatever the recipient was getting.
\nIt was invariably a mess, but each disastrous effort spurred me on to try and achieve perfection.
\nAlas, it\u2019s still a far off dream. My packages, although not covered in brown paper, and usually with bows or curled ribbons replacing the strings of yore, are still, in some cases, wrapped in a double layer of excess paper or patched up here and there with trimmings.
\nEach patch, a symbol of my love and determination.
\n(Yes, that too is sarcasm)<\/p>\n

Snowflakes that stay
\non my nose and eyelashes
\nOkay, so here\u2019s where I was falsely accused of sarcasm last week.
\nIn the lead up to the snowfall, I posed a simple question: Who else loves the sound of the snow plow blades scraping the pavement in the dead of night?
\nDepending on your point of view, perhaps you\u2019re not surprised there were relatively few hands that popped up. For some, it generated a chuckle; others an angry face; and others, a smattering of eye-rolling gifs.
\nNevertheless, I was serious.
\nIn the warmer months, there are few sounds more soothing to me than a thunderstorm on a hot, sultry night. The sound of nature doing what she does best never fails to lull me into a deep and relaxing sleep.
\nConversely, when the snow flies, the sound of people working to clean up nature\u2019s wrath elicits a similar feeling.
\nThe sound of the blades scraping along the ground is something I unapologetically find soothing, although the whys and the wherefores are out of reach, even to me. Perhaps it signals that despite being wrapped up cosily in bed that the world is still going about its business. Maybe it\u2019s the fact the sound is a pretty good indicator that one will be waking up to the beauty of a fresh layer of gleaming snow.
\nWhatever it is, I\u2019m just going to roll with it and enjoy.
\nThe same goes for that delightful feeling when you go out the door first thing on a crisp winter morning, less than half an hour removed from a warming shower, and the inside of your nose ever-so-slightly freezes on first contact with the air. <\/p>\n

Silver white winters
\nthat melt into springs.
\nYes, I think it\u2019s safe to say Maria was a winter enthusiast as well, and for so many the best part of this season is the knowledge that once December 21 is firmly out of the way, the days start becoming longer and longer and each day is one closer to the warmth and vitality of a new spring. <\/p>\n

However \u2013 and wherever \u2013 you derive your pleasure this Christmas season, I hope you find what you\u2019re looking for and have a safe and happy holiday. I\u2019ll see you in 2018.<\/p>\n\"Facebook\"<\/a>\"twitter\"<\/a>\"mail\"<\/a>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Brock Weir I\u2019m continually reminded that sarcasm simply doesn\u2019t translate well in the wilds of the internet. Through the written word, it is rather difficult to sufficiently convey the nudge-nudge-wink-wink so often present in verbal communication. Without an emoji, readers are often unaware that you\u2019re raising your eyebrow quizzically, rolling your eyes as the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[29,28],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-19443","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-columns","category-opinion"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p3D2k4-53B","publishpress_future_action":{"enabled":false,"date":"2026-04-27 08:48:08","action":"change-status","newStatus":"draft","terms":[],"taxonomy":"category","extraData":[]},"publishpress_future_workflow_manual_trigger":{"enabledWorkflows":[]},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newspapers-online.com\/auroran\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19443","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newspapers-online.com\/auroran\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newspapers-online.com\/auroran\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newspapers-online.com\/auroran\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newspapers-online.com\/auroran\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=19443"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.newspapers-online.com\/auroran\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19443\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newspapers-online.com\/auroran\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=19443"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newspapers-online.com\/auroran\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=19443"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newspapers-online.com\/auroran\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=19443"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}