The choir loft

My Christmas story took place between 1947 and 1953.

On the last weekend before Christmas. a cavalcade of four or five cars with neighbours and church members would embark on a drive out into the country. I don’t think we were much past the gravel pit in Colwood, where we would search for Christmas trees for our homes and four or five trees to be the backdrop of the manger scene at our parish church, Queen of Peace in Esquimalt. There would be Thermoses of hot chocolate and plenty of fun. We were even lucky enough to have snow one year while we were there.

In our parish, because so many people wanted to attend Midnight Mass, there was a regulation that no one below the age of 16 years was allowed to attend. Because both of our parents were in the choir, we were permitted to do so.

On Christmas Eve, we were put to bed around 7:30 p.m. to get some sleep. As you can expect, this was a dead loss because of the excitement and also the neighbours from across the street would make their yuletide visit. I am sure it would be around 9:30 or 10 when we finally drifted off.

We were awakened after 11 p.m. to prepare to attend Midnight Mass. My youngest sister was born on Dec. 9 and attended her first Midnight Mass at the age of 16 days in a wicker laundry basket in the sacristy with my grandmother. I usually felt sick because of all the excitement, so I would be sitting in the choir loft with my mother’s fur coat wrapped around me. The most important Christmas memory occurred when I was 8 or 9 years old. My mother was a beautiful soprano and my father had a lovely tenor voice. During one Midnight Mass, my parents sang a duet of Adeste Fideles. I will never forget the pleasure and pride I felt as I listened and I knew then that I would never forget those moments.

After Mass we would return home where we were told we could not enter the living-room until we changed into our pyjamas. You can imagine the rush. We were then allowed to enter the living-room to see if Santa had visited. Sure enough, the lighted Christmas tree greeted us with presents under its branches.

You know, I cannot remember a Christmas dinner until the age of 11 or 12. I am positive there were many Christmas dinners, as the Christmas cakes and puddings were baked in November.

Now, would you really expect a child to remember a dinner when experiencing all of these Christmas traditions and memories?

Margaret Fleck