Winter has been weakened by the greed and irresponsibility of industry, just as the arrogance and irresponsibility of a doctor led to the development of a cancer which has weakened my mother. Like my mother, winter has been stripped of its strength. Once, and we believed, forever, winter ruled. Winter would howl and rage. Winter could knock out your power. Winter could be terrifying. Winter could be beautiful. Winter could glitter, and winter could shine. Winter could become a wonderland.

For all its bluster, winter had a soft spot for children. There was more than enough snow available to mould into snowmen. Balls could be formed and used as a weapon with which to pelt an older sister. Schoolbags could be ditched for skates dangling on hockey sticks. A frozen rink was never farther than a neighborhood park. Toboggans would proliferate on inclines in a city built on inclines; in the city where hockey was born. Toboggans could become sidewalk chariots on which glided rosy-cheeked little brothers.

Like my mother, winter could be depended upon to arrive on time. Its first flakes would fall on my brother’s birthday; its first storm would strike on mine.

When winter was healthy, Christmas was always white and the new year was always cold. Now snowmen are made of Styrofoam, and mud replaces snow.

Mother Earth has cancer. What are we going to do about it?