Well, it is 65 degrees in Los Angeles and that is about as cold as it gets. My son, meanwhile, is missing New York with grand ferocity. He misses the cold. He misses the snow. He finds it all refreshing. I am not too sure that I miss the snow. I do miss New York with even more intensity. But I have a love/hate relationship with snow. I find it stunning and magnificent. I also fall every two seconds and end up with deep bruises as a result.
One thing, though, is that I sometimes don’t wish to sing Christmas songs that out in Los Angeles that allude to the cold and snow. I don’t feel the oomph to the songs. I realize that there is some controversy right now about the song “baby it’s cold outside” leading to it being pulled from several radio stations. But I do wish I could say that it’s cold outside. I know my son wishes it were so. We are dreaming of a true winter. A few years back we went to Berlin for Christmas and despite my continuous near-frostbite status, it felt wonderful to be in a winter wonderland.
Meanwhile, we keep feeling nostalgic for our snow-covered backyard in New York. Admittedly, I do like the nice warm sun of Los Angeles as well especially when I can run on the sandy beach in Santa Monica and people are stuck in two feet of snow elsewhere. To everything there is love and longing for the opposite.