Bulletin Board
Rosemary sent a shoebox full of holly with lots of red berries picked from her Sunshine Coast garden in British Columbia. When I opened the package, the smell of cedar filled the air as she had also tucked in bits of cedar boughs.
How did this older sister, with whom I battled throughout our childhood, know how detached I felt from the family during this Christmas season in 1971—especially after our recent move to Ottawa from the West Coast?
My mind wandered back to my childhood as I added the treasured pieces of holly and cedar to the Christmas decor that we had in place.
Rosemary is exactly one year and six days older than me. Our brother, Harold, is three and a half years younger. Norma, who was 14 years my junior, was too young to be a part of our “growing up” years.
Our early life was through the Depression years when not much money was available. Two of my paternal bachelor uncles would arrive with a small box of toys. We’d choose what we wanted as they were never wrapped individually. The toys were made from recycled tin and had sharp edges so had to be handled carefully. More interest was shown in what had been in the tin than the toy itself.
Christmas dinner would include the maternal side of the family, including separated grandparents who had remained friends, and my mother’s youngest brother who always added fun to the celebration.
There was no fancy wrapping paper. Newspaper was used or tissue with fancy cut-out edges and secured with stickers, all adding colour under the tree and leaving our mouths feeling securely glued shut. Coloured paper chains were made and strung corner to corner above the Christmas tree with another wrapped around the tree itself.
North Vancouver seldom saw snow at Christmas time. I do remember one year though when it did, and Christmas became
magical. Dad had a knife with a handle made of a deer’s hoof. He had put on his boots and with his knife went out and marked the snow as if Santa and his reindeer had stopped over.
From my kitchen window, I watch my own children skating on the rink we made in the backyard. We promised them a trip into downtown Ottawa. It is Christmas Eve and the carillon bells on the Parliament buildings will be playing carols. We’d best be on our way.