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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Lucknow Sentinel, 1978-12-20, Page 1Carolfes A musical celebration of the Christmas season was held at the annual Carolfest at Lucknow United Church, "December 13. South Kinloss Presbyterian Church Choir under the direction of Ruth Bell is shown presenting their anthem, Roundlay. Sia choirs from area churches participated, including the choirs of St. Peter's Anglican Church, Lucknow; Lucknow United Church; Lucknow Presbyterian Church; Lucknow Christian Reformed Church; St. Joseph's. Romaili Catholic Church, Kingsbridge, and South Kinloss Presbyterian Church. [Sentinel Staff Photo] WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 20, 1978 \SECOND SECTION Tribute to Nanny [MRS MARGARET HAIM Sacramento, California, 16 December, 1972. Dearest Nanny, It is night and I went to bed and couldn't.. sleep ..analforsome _reason began to think about you and your marvellous old house on the hill. And it occurred to me that even when we had two weeks together two summers past, I never took the time or opportunity to tell you many things, I remember with fond clarity about you and me and that house Though neither of us have been in that old house for a long time, unless you've been invited back lately, I must tell you that I still live there almost all the time --- in my dreams. You see, in. my dreams that house, its rooms, furniture, colours, smells,' people and memories percolate like a magic seedbed and Fill my sleeping mind with. incredibly vivid pictures of things gone by and many more things that never, I think, really happened. I don't think I could ever explain the wistful import- ance of things like the grilled stove -pipe hole overlooking the kitchen from Gran - dad's bedroom, the trap door in the kitchen floor before it was covered with the new linoleuth, Dicky's cage in the dining room in the winter, and on the' sun porch in the summer, the old well outside the back kitchen, and laundry room filled with so many odd treasur- ers, the fantastic junk closet under the stairs, the gilt oval framed pictures I. found there, Dad's old white dummy war bomb, the living room radio before you got TV - with Foster Hewitt's "Hockey Night in Canada" voice cont- ing out of it, the bathroom with the tub that never got enough hot water in it to keep me warm on winter Saturday nights, Eileen's elegant front bedroom, the unspoiled rustic back bedroom where. I. slept on. howling. -cold. nights - with only old "Readers Digests" to keep me company, and my favourite bedroom - yours. That room was just about the most "feminine" :room I've ever known. Not in a flowery sense - but really. Your dressing table covered with old-fashion- ed hair pins and doilies, its mirror, the holder of _dozens of 1930 and 1940 snapshots, the odd bits and pieces of comfortable jewellery. Your nightcaps! The wardrobe filled with perfumed sachets and mothballs, frilly dresses and housecoats and rows of matronly shoes. It was from your bedroom window if you'll remember, that you showed me "Santa's reindeers" tracks on the garage roof one Christmas morning. Was it the Christmas when I caught my stomach in the pop -gun? My happiest Christmases were al- ways in your old Lucknow house. The best I can remember was strange because when I • awoke there was the. most enormous white flannelette Christ- mas stocking lying at the foot of the bed absolutely stuffed with oranges, apples, Dinky toys from Granny and Grandpa in Scotland, Rupert the Bear Annuals games and 1 cannot remember what else. All before I ever got the presents under, the tree. You have no idea how often I remember that morning. It seemed that you were always in the house cooking, cleaning - doing things tomake life more enjoyable - downtown doing shopping- or some other busy errand. For some reason • it is most natural for me to, think of you wearing an apron. I always remember you almost always having stewed or fresh fruit for dessert and only ice cream by the.b`rick on special occasions, and very wise too. I can only remember you being cross with me twice. Once when I took Eileen's bus money off the buffet to buy a book when my Mother and Dad were in Detroit and couldn't give me any and when poor Dicky . was stunned when Murray and I tipped his cage over. Both time you seemed more disappointed than angry. From that old house you also took me out into other homes and gardens nearby, and Hazel Webster showed• me the secrets of her root cellar and National Geographics. I ,remember Lassie, the three legged dog walking past the pink cement flamingos on your lawn. Especially I remember you .at a moment, which, with one or two excep- tions, I think was your loveliest. It was the . afternoon, probably about the summer of 1953 or 4 when we all got dressed up and had the whole family's picture taken in front of the sun porch on the lawn. The pictures are in black and I was only seven or eight but I seem to remember the }tress you were wearing was pink. Anyway regardless of its colour you looked radiant. You 'seemed to be beyond care, sublimely surrounded by all you hold dear. That type of moment comes too seldom, if at all, in any one's life. For someone who has known as .much rugged, hard driving sacrifice and as many hard times as have passed in front of your eyes it must have been a beautiful 'moment. You were past fifty when I was born and I have known you only as you have grown older. But our two weeks 1 together in Britain and other times has shown me much of you remains the same as you were sixty or seventy years ago. The sense of willingness to take a chance even though it meant leaving the comfort of home for a trek into unknown territory was as alive when you agreed to come with me to Britain for your eightieth birthday as it was when you told Grandad you would go with him to the Prairie. Your curiosity to see the London sights was probably as great as it was when you went to Toronto or Guelph for the first time. Our bodies change, our minds get a little tired - but the main facts of who we were and what we will always be, continue to shine forth. The last time I saw you as I pulled away from Eileen's after my birthday this summer was a beautiful going -away present. You stood in the lane bathed in sunshine in a flowery frock, hair white as clouds and waved until I saw you disappear through the trees and `I could turn my head no longer. That was the most recent of the poignant memories of our times togeth- er and one I'll always carry until we meet again. Your loving grandson, John.