The Rural Voice, 2005-12, Page 23i
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begun in 1905, her hands cuddled in
a fur muff to keep them warm. Her
family had a decorated Christmas
tree with many packages under it.
Visiting with friends and relatives,
singing Christmas carols around the
piano and feasting were the order of
the day.
t is not surprising then that
J
mother was the Christmas Spirit
in our farm home. It was she who
supervised the letters to Santa, who
we listened to every day on the radio.
She ordered gifts from the Eaton's
catalogue and hid them away from
our prying eyes. It was she who did
the Christmas baking and saw to our
costumes for the school Christmas
concert. Dad cut a tree from our
neighbour's bush lot and set it up in
the big farm kitchen where all of us
helped to decorate it with garlands
that were handed down from my
grandparents' home in Toronto.
In my waking dreams of Christmas
Eve past, my little
brother and I are
lying on my
parents' bed in
their room off the
farm kitchen
resting in
preparation for
Midnight Mass.
My mother is
scrubbing the
green patterned
kitchen linoleum in readiness for
visitors. Bing Crosby croons White
Christmas on the radio. We are
supposed to be sleeping so we can
stay up late, but the sleeping never
happens, rather whispering and
excited giggles.
We dress warmly for the 10 -mile
ride to church, four of us cuddled
underneath a scratchy blanket in the
back seat of the old 1930 Essex with
the broken heater. We hear the age-
old story of the Christ Child born in
Bethlehen4 and join in singing Silent
Night before we visit the nativity
creche. I cuddle beside my mother
and bury my hands in the wide cuffs
of her Hudson Seal coat.
Later we ride home watching the
starlit heavens for signs of Santa and
his reindeer, certain that the shooting
star is the jolly old man and his well -
stocked sleigh flying across the
midnight sky.
In the morning we are delighted
with the orenges in our stockings and
the small pile of presents for each of
us on chairs by the tree. After
breakfast and barn chores, a
neighbour drops by with holiday
greetings and bags of candies for us,
and a bottle of Christmas cheer for
my father. Later our city cousins will
join us for dinner or we will drive to
Toronto, where in the early 1950s we
were enthralled by the wonders of
television and the antics of Howdy
Doody.
When 1 left home at 17 to go away
to school, I began to fully appreciate
my home and family. I bought and
wrapped small presents for everyone,
and after the trauma of first term
exams, I was overjoyed to have my
father pick me up to bring me home.
My teenage brother and I ventured
forth with the big sleigh Dad had
made for us when we were kids to
chop down a spruce 'tree from
Percy's woodlot, dragging it home
through lightly
falling snow. We
set the tree up in the
parlour that year, our
seldom -used front
room.
There was a
moment that
Christmas Eve when
I first experienced
"The Christmas
Feeling," a heart
with love and
"When I left home at
17 to go away to
school, I began to
fully appreciate mg
home and family."
overflowing
appreciation for my family and
home. As we opened our presents I
sat silent for a moment, an observer
as the others talked and laughed,
tears of happiness in my eyes.
Each Christmas I anticipate that
one instant of pure joy that
surfaces at some unexpected
time, a feeling that has to do with the
real spirit of Christmas with loved
ones, and not much to do with the
frenzy of buying, wrapping.
decorating and baking that leads up
to the celebration.
Bing Crosby still croons White
Christmas at our house on Christmas
Eve. and 1 look forward to Christmas
with children and grandchildren.
Sometime during the celebrations
there will be phone calls from my
sister and brothers as a reminder of
Christmas Past as we recollect loved
ones that have gone before.°
Jr
May the,
Peace, cvetd joy
of God.' love,
through, Chri bt,
1e, witiv you/
throw;
the, co nti,n - year!!
reetLngs, frovvv
Courtney
Graz n/ as'td' Seed, Ltd..
R ' '
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RR #3 Markdale 519-986-2507
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628 Conc. 11 Kincardine
DECEMBER 2005 19