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Christmases past
As the festive season approaches, people will start reminiscing about past festive holidays with family and friends. Most of my recollections of Holidays Past are good ones. I say “most” because I don’t remember enjoying the Christmas in 1961 when we woke up to overcast skies, plus temperatures, fog and rain. The interesting thing is each member of my family will remembers things differently. Not one of my siblings remembers the “rainy, gloomy Christmas of 1961”. Sometimes, their memories aren’t just a little bit different from mine, often it seems they must have lived with another family, or in another country. In my great big family of seven kids, the memories of the oldest child are completely removed from those of the youngest and from the rest of us inbetween’ers. My oldest sister was fifteen years of age when my youngest brother was born. In the years since my youngest brother made his debut, eleven days before Christmas, times changed, family circumstances changed. Heck even the house we lived in changed, dramatically. We all have our own memories of Christmas in the early years in our childhood home.
In a recent conversation with my oldest sister, we laughed about the Christmas concerts we inflicted upon our parents, as if school concerts at Christmastime weren’t enough. The planning and rehearsals for our Holiday Extravaganza always took place in the semifinished basement/recreation room. We had our Eaton’s Department Store Song Sheets, our Catholic School understanding of the first Christmas, a trunk full of dress-up clothes and enthusiasm fuelled by freshly baked refrigerator cookies and hot cocoa. The moment we felt we were well-versed and rehearsed, we’d let our parents know the greatly anticipated concert was going to begin. The front room was the stage, the couch was where the victims (I mean audience) sat and the stage entrance was from the back hallway. The back hall was also where all of the costume changes were made and where lines were reviewed. One of our “concerts” featured our very own rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas. Each of us, who were old enough to be on stage, had a verse to sing and the leftover verses we sang together. I remember my parents being very surprised by our concerts. Their winces and grimaces were hardly noticeable and their giggles were well stifled. “Five Golden Riiiings!!!” That, and “Six Geese a Laying”, were my verses, every year. One year, when he was old enough, my younger brother picked up the verse was “Nine Ladies Dancing”. He had the voice of an angel. Oh, yes he did. But, he decided to lighten the moment and sang, in tune and with impeccable timing, “Nine Laddies Dancing”. The dog’s name was Laddie. I had the feeling he thought the dog would dance when he heard his name in song, but all he did was howl and then scratch at the front door to be freed from the chaos.
One of the things my oldest sister and I remember best was how our parents always treated us to a very good Holiday. Our stockings were always filled with a very large orange, a huge Red Delicious apple, a little bag of ribbon candy and a great big Cadbury chocolate bar. The best part was we didn’t have to share any of the treats with each other. On that one day we had all of those goodies to ourselves. My parents made Christmas magical for us. One year my father crafted a fireplace out of orange crates and “red brick” corrugated paper. Our childhood tree was always covered with homemade paper chains along with imported crystal and glass decorations. When the lights were turned out after the tree was lit it was one of the rare moments when no one said a word. My parents were born in the twenties and lived through the depression as new Canadians. I believe they wanted us to have all of the magic they didn’t get, as children. While the gifts weren’t always epic, by today’s standards, we definitely got what we most wanted along with a few board games, puzzles and colouring books and an eight-pack of real Crayola™ Crayons. Crayolas were the gold standard when we were kids.
We all remember waking up on Christmas Day to the aroma of a turkey being roasted. We all remember the “crackers” with the paper hat, the small toy and the fortune. We all remember a bowl of walnuts, almonds and filberts on the coffee table. We all remember my father’s insistence on leaving the shredded wrapping paper, boxes and ribbons on the floor throughout the day. We all remember that one, last present we had hoped for and finally received after being close to tears as Dad said, “That’s it. All the gifts have been given out. Oh, look! There’s one more.” And it was always the one present one of us had wanted more than anything.
Times have changed for all of us. We have our own families but we learned holiday magic from the best and we don’t hesitate to sprinkle it around. I hope you find your magic.
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