Special times
Memories recall a simpler season
We all have Christmas memories. Most are good, others not so, but they all contribute to our own personal mosaic of Christmas memories.
This Christmas I thought that I’d share a few stories of my own Christmases past. To do this, I drew upon the recollections of my mother Pat, and two brothers, Paul and Keith.
Midnight mass seemed to be a recurring theme. Some in attendance would be fortified with drink. Being a Catholic was irrelevant. One of my university friends told me that an inebriated friend of his entered the church and was waving at friends and not paying attention to where he was going. The person ahead of him genuflected without warning, catapulting the gentleman over his back.
Mom remembers Dad trying to assemble toys well past the midnight hour, sometime with minimal lighting, keeping a wary eye for any revellers who may wish to drop by for a nightcap after Midnight mass.
We always looked forward to my grandfather Jimmie Edstrom’s arrival every Christmas morning. Our home was one of a number of family and friends that he visited. One Christmas, Pa taught us how to play pool on our new miniature pool table.
It all worked well until our little cousin Gerard thought the small coloured pool balls were candy and tried to eat them.
Then there were the Christmas gifts and treats. Keith remembers heading to the legion on a Saturday morning to get the annual Christmas bag of treats. He recalls the ribbon candy would have the wool from his mittens sticking to it when he tried to eat it. There were also candy canes and apples, and the odd chocolate. Joe Peach was Santa for many years, and when Joe drove by our house in his Santa suit, you had to scramble to head to the legion.
Keith also recalled that some cheaper chocolates we had at home had no paper insert to tell you what each chocolate contained. We would have to guess by its shape. Often, one of us would bite into an undesirable one, like mint julep, and place the rest of the chocolate back into the box.
“Waste not; want not,” I suppose.
Many memories were related to school. Mom vividly remembers the sights and sounds of the school Christmas concerts, the children grilled to perform their best by their teachers, the equivalent of Broadway directors. Paul remembers when gifts were exchanged in school the most desirable one was the six-pack book of Life Savers. The most disappointing gift was a pair of homemade socks, something he would covet today. If you received a hockey stick, it was the 75 cent Sherwood that was wood only with no fibreglass reinforcement. One or two slapshots, and the blade would shatter, relegating the pointed remains to road hockey in the spring.
With three boys in the family, hockey was always part of the Christmas collage of memories. One year, my grandmother Leah Edstrom wanted to buy Keith a hockey jersey. Grammie had no idea about NHL teams, favourites or rivalries. She thought the Montreal Canadiens had the prettiest colours, so she bought him a jersey and to make things worse, a matching outfit. Luckily, Keith, today a devout Leafs fan, was too young to be scarred for life by wearing a Habs sweater. Grammie was in my corner, though, when she bought me my first Detroit Red Wings jersey for Christmas. Now, that was a gift that lasted.
Christmas has changed so much over the years. We were very fortunate at the time in that our parents could provide for a good Christmas, but not an extravagant one. I realize that many were not so fortunate. I wonder how much is lost in meaning and memories in a commercialized Christmas of today that differs so much from the Christmases of many years ago.
From my family to yours, I wish you a very Merry Christmas with many good memories.