LETTER TO THE EDITOR: Christmas memories sweeten with age
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Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 19/12/2022 (639 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.
Growing up in a family of six children and two hard-working parents on a small, Prairie farm during the 1950s, there was seldom anything left over for extras after feeding, clothing and educating us. Christmas would definitely fall into that “extra” category. However, Christmas can be as much a creature of the imagination as an exciting reality, so in spite of the meagreness of our existence, Christmas was a very big deal to me!
The magic began with the arrival of the Simpsons Sears and Eaton’s Christmas catalogues. I would pick out everything I wanted, knowing I wouldn’t get most of them. At school, we prepared for our Christmas program. Every grade presented something, and Santa Claus always made an appearance to hand out little brown paper bags containing a Japanese orange and hard candies to all the children.
On Christmas Eve, my siblings and I each laid out one of my father’s wool socks, anticipating the Japanese orange, chocolates, humbugs and gumdrops we would find in them on Christmas morning. I never stayed awake waiting for Santa Claus because I never believed in Santa Claus. To this day, I wish I could have had that element of magic as part of my Christmas experience, but from an early age I knew exactly where my presents came from, and it was courting disappointment to believe in a magical character bringing presents I knew my parents couldn’t afford.
Somehow my mother managed to scrounge together enough egg and cream money every year to buy a present for all of us, which would be placed unwrapped, under a scraggly little evergreen tree, which, glowing with a string of multi-colour lights, looked magnificent to me on Christmas morning. I don’t remember ever being disappointed at what I received.
Later that day, we would all sit down to a turkey dinner, complete with all the trimmings, my father’s favourite part of Christmas. The day would end with all of us driving into town to attend our church Christmas program, for which we had been practising for weeks.
The next day would dawn just like any other winter morning. Christmas was over again for another year, but the happy memory had been made and was safely stored away in that special place in our hearts where such things sweeten with age and continue to bring joy for years to come.
CAROL VAN DE WOESTYNE
Brandon