Showing posts with label Christmas Memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas Memories. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 20, 2023

Christmases Past (and Presents)...by Sheila Claydon

 



I haven't written any books with Christmas in them but Loving Ellen (Book 2 of Mapleby Memories) has exactly the right cover. I can imagine little Ellen's excitement when she wakes up on Christmas morning and sees a bulging stocking at the end of her bed. And that imagining has made me remember some of the favourite gifts I received as a child.

The first one I can clearly recall is a pair of rabbit fur mittens. I was about 5 years old. The fur was on top, the palm was leather, and there was a gathering of elastic at the wrist so they wouldn't fall off. They were so soft and warm and  I wore them for most of the Christmas holiday, indoors and out, often rubbing the furry side against my face. I adored them. In those days it was real fur too. Nowadays it would be faux. We also used to eat rabbit in those long ago days not long after the war, so it seemed entirely natural to use their fur for hats and gloves, whereas now rabbit pie has all but disappeared from the British culinary tradition and rabbits are mostly children's pets.

Another present I remember was a doll house. It was really special although I didn't know how special until years later when I realised my parents had made it for me. It was only a few years after WW2 so toys were in short supply and money was too. But by using wooden boxes, scraps of wallpaper and carpet, and by contriving beds, chairs and sofas out of matchboxes plumped up with cotton wool and covered in old dress material, they conjured up the most marvellous gift. It had four fully furnished rooms and a family of tiny rubber dolls. The baby's cradle was half a walnut shell. I loved it beyond words.

I remember, too, the artist's palette, 3 canvases and box of oil paints I received from a much older cousin when I was about 14 and fancying myself as a painter. My poor grandmother and my father patiently sat  for hours while I painted them. Although I am no artist I did capture their likeness and my mother hung them in the hall until I left home. She then removed them somewhat rapidly and I am quite sure with a sigh of relief.

I remember the baby doll too. I insisted it was a boy and called him Michael. Maybe prescient as that's my husband's name! He was almost new born baby size and my mother, who had kept my old carry cot ready for another child who sadly never arrived, let me use it for Michael along with the covers and shawls I had been wrapped in as a baby. I had a doll pram too but I don't remember how or when that arrived or whether it was new or second hand. I do know it was maroon though.

Then, when I was about nine years old, I had the book Christmas! I don't remember what my parents gave me, but everyone else gave me a book. I had a great many aunts and uncles and cousins, so that was quite a lot of books. At least ten, and not a single one replicated. Nor had I read any of them before. There was What Katy Did, What Katy Did Next, Little Women, one of Enid Blyton's Famous Five books, Swallows and Amazons, Children of the New Forest and Heidi to name a few. I don't remember them all but I know my parents had a very peaceful time because I spent Christmas with my nose in one book after another. And although I already loved reading, I think that was the year I started writing too. I can remember turning a cupboard in my bedroom into a desk with pencil, rubber and notepad laid out neatly on the shelf and a small stool tucked underneath. None of my early scribblings survived but I do remember writing about a girl called Dorothy although what her story was about is lost in the mists of time.

Christmas for children is wonderful if they are lucky enough to be part of a caring family. Nowadays, so many years later, I enjoy my Christmases vicariously through the eyes and excitement of my grandchildren, and, although I hardly dare admit it, my grand dogs, cat and horses!! According to my granddaughters they are so much part of the family that they can't be left out. However I don't think dog biscuits, catnip and hay nets will have the same lasting memories for them that my early Christmases have for me. 

As I get older I relish the memories and know how lucky I was, and still am. I hope you have your own wonderful memories too.

Merry Christmas!


Saturday, December 18, 2021

Christmas Memories by Nancy M Bell

 

To discover more about Storm and this Christmas tale as well as Nancy's other books click on the cover.


We always put the tree up on December 20th as that is my birthday. Mom and Dad never wanted to put the tree up earlier than that as we always had a real tree and they worried that it would dry out.

We had these really cool bubble lights that were all different colors but got really hot when you left them on too long. There was a fluffy white angel on top.

One Christmas Eve when we were still outside in the driveway just getting out of the car Wendy and I got a huge surprise.  There, coming down the Cooney’s driveway, who were our next door neighbors, was Santa Claus! 

 We both screamed and then bolted for the back door.  If Santa came while were still up and awake he wouldn’t leave us anything.  We tore through the back door into the kitchen and down the back hall to the bedroom.  With our wet snow boots and coats still on Wendy and I scrambled into bed and pulled the covers over our heads.  I had a harder time getting into bed as I had to climb up into the top bunk, but I made it.  Mom and Dad came in and tried to get us to take off our coats and boots and change into night clothes.  Wendy and I wouldn’t budge, we were pretending to be asleep so that Santa would leave our presents.  We were sure that he was coming to our house any moment because we KNEW he just next door and he hadn’t been to our house next.  He must have already been to Jo-anne and John Lee’s place because they lived on the other side of the Cooneys, so we had to be next.  Mom and Dad must have removed our boots after we were asleep because they were gone in the morning.  And Santa did leave our presents for us that year. 

Things changed in 1964, June was married and living on Homestead Ave with Butch and my brother Timmy was born in July.  So Christmas 1964 was a little different.  There was one more of us to track all over the city to visit my aunts.

Sometime in the 1960’s Aunt Gloria and Uncle Tommy and Cindy and Tammy-Lori moved to Toronto.  My Grandma and Grandpa Rafter moved from Constance Lake near Ottawa and bought a little store on Davis Lake, near Kinmount.  Every winter they would come to Toronto and stay with Aunt Gloria and Uncle Tommy, so now we had even more excitement and visiting on Christmas Eve.  We often went to Aunt Gloria and Uncle Tommy’s for New Year’s dinner.  The turkey dressing was always yucky, it had so much sage in it ( which Gramma Rafter LOVED) and sometimes sausage. Not my favorite part of the meal I’ll tell you.  There was always way too much to eat, tons of turkey and cranberries, mashed potatoes and gravy.

 Our Christmas dinner at home was always large.  June and Butch and their sons Geoff, Peter and Terry would come. My Aunt Frances and Uncle Jim came on Christmas afternoon early and brought their sausage dog with them.  The first dog I remember was Sandy who was quite portly and smelled like DOG.  He would bite my dad if he tried to discipline us in front of him.  We liked Sandy.  Sandy would also dance with us, running around while we pranced around laughing.  Aunt Frances always gave us Avon for Christmas and her packages were always decorated with cool stuff. Uncle Jim is my mother’s only brother and he has one daughter Marilyn who lives in the States.  There would also be My Gramma and Grampa Pritchard who lived with us, Wendy and me and Timmy.  Mom would pull the big table with all the leaves in it out into the middle of our small living room and the table would stretch from the front window to the door to the kitchen.  It was set with these cool plates that we only used at Christmas, all pale yellow ,blue and pink around the edges with white roses in the centre.  Mom used her good silverware that Dad bought her one year for Christmas and a tablecloth that never seemed to escape the cranberries or the gravy. Our small house was full of the smell of turkey and gravy and boiling potatoes.  There never seemed to be enough room but somehow everyone managed to get seated at the table and Dad would carve the turkey. Wendy and I would fight over the drumsticks, although in later times Timmy always got one.

 Dad had this movie camera that required a bar of really bright lights in order to film anything.  In most of film from those years we all look like moles that have wandered into the sunlight.  Our faces are red (the lights were hot) and our eyes all squinted shut. Timmy running around with his diapers drooping off his butt.  Wendy always made sure her hair was combed and she looked presentable before going upstairs. Me, not so much. 

So much has changed since then. Places at the table hold different faces now, but the magic still holds us in hollow of its hand. Christmas Joy and Peace to you and yours, in this season and throughout the year.

 


 


Monday, December 14, 2020

Flowers to Remember Christmas...by Sheila Claydon


The cover of the latest edition, published by Books We Love 



A second edition ebook published by another publisher no longer operating

The original cover when the book was one of 2 full length stories published together


In recent blogs I have written about how the covers of some of my books have changed over the years as new editions have been published. How, too, I have transitioned from using the pseudonym Anne Beverley to my own name of Sheila Claydon, and how this also affected the publication. (see above) 

Today I am blogging about the third of these vintage books, Bouquet of Thorns, and I have chosen this one  because of the flowers and because it is almost Christmas. My mother was a very talented florist and because florists are always very busy in the festive season, I sometimes got to help her in those long ago  Christmases. Although I was given the unskilled jobs such as sweeping floor and filling vases with water, occasionally far more exciting things happened, and these are the seasonal memories I cherish. 

I was born and raised in Southampton, England, which is a coastal city with a port used by liners from across the world.  Nowadays it is the busiest cruise terminal and the second largest container port in the UK. In those far distant days, however, when cruises were only for the very wealthy, people would spend days and weeks aboard ship travelling to places such as South Africa and America, instead of flying as most do today. And that was how, from quite a young age, I was able to accompany my mum when she went on board what were then some of the most modern liners in the world, to decorate the state rooms, the various lounge and dining areas, the ball rooms and other communal places, and deliver personal bouquets to individual cabins. Sometimes I even got to do the personal deliveries myself...not exactly knocking on the cabin door and handing over the flowers, but taking them to the correct deck and searching out the bedroom steward who would then take charge of them.

Walking up the gangway carrying a bouquet of flowers or a box of plants made me feel very important but even better was going down to the galley to see the chefs at work, and then being served a meal that was far more exotic than anything I got at home because it was in the days before we all began to adopt the dishes of other countries and cultures. I would often be given chocolate, cakes and fruit to take home too. I  tasted my first Hershey bar courtesy of a steward on an American liner, long before they were sold in the UK. Pineapple too, and mango. And many other things that are available most places now but which weren't then.

So Bouquet of Thorns not only reminds me of those far off Christmases, it also reminds me of my mum, and every word written about the flowers and the floral displays in the book comes from that. Helping her taught me a lot, and it's thanks to her that I know how to care for cut flowers, how to revitalise them when they start to droop, and how best to display them. I know the best way to pot up plants too, and care for those, and, like my mum, that has tipped over into loving and caring for garden plants as well. So although those visits to the vast and glossy liners in the port of Southampton are long past, I still remember how it felt to be accepted by the crew and, probably because I was young, given so many treats. To this day I still remember most of the things my mum taught me about flowers, the same as I remember the joy of those Christmases past.

If you like flowers too, then you can find a snippet from Bouquet of Thorns on my Website.

Happy Christmas and I hope you are able to make some happy memories that stay with you, even in these difficult times.




Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Silent Night Nancy M Bell


To find out more about Storm's Christmas and other books by Nancy please click on the cover.


Christmas festivities change over the years. When we're young things are so simple.
We always put the tree up on December 20th as that was my birthday. Mom and Dad never wanted to put the tree up earlier than that as we always had a real tree and they worried that it would dry out.
We had these really cool bubble lights that were all different colors but got really hot when you left them on too long. There was a fluffy white angel on top.
One Christmas Eve when we were still outside in the driveway just getting out of the car Wendy and I got a huge surprise. There, coming down the Cooney’s driveway, who were our next door neighbors, was Santa Claus!

We both screamed and then bolted for the back door. If Santa came while were still up and awake he wouldn’t leave us anything. We tore through the back door into the kitchen and down the back hall to the bedroom. With our wet snow boots and coats still on Wendy and I scrambled into bed and pulled the covers over our heads. I had a harder time getting into bed as I had to climb up into the top bunk, but I made it. Mom and Dad came in and tried to get us to take off our coats and boots and change into night clothes. Wendy and I wouldn’t budge, we were pretending to be asleep so that Santa would leave our presents. We were sure that he was coming to our house any moment because we KNEW he just next door and he hadn’t been to our house next. He must have already been to Jo-anne and John Lee’s place because they lived on the other side of the Cooneys, so we had to be next. Mom and Dad must have removed our boots after we were asleep because they were gone in the morning. And Santa did leave our presents for us that year.

Then we get older and things get a little more complicated. Boyfriends and eventually husbands enter the scene and there are now two families with sometimes conflicting traditions to juggle. And then babies come, and bring with them a whole new dimension to the planning and logistics of the holidays. Somehow we survive the chaos and suddenly the babies aren't babies anymore. They grow up and acquire girlfriends and obligations beyond out small family circle. The years pass so quickly it's hard to fathom the reality of it.

And then our family circle grows smaller as children and their spouses go their own ways, often taking them far away from the home place. Though we are always together in our hearts, there is now a new meaning to Silent Night. No squeals of laughter on Christmas morning, tons of leftovers from a Christmas turkey cooked for only two. Looking down the years, I see the thread of my ancestors walking the same journey that I do, from maiden to mother to crone. Ahead of me I see the line of my descendants, walking the same journey as life spans wax and wane. There is a certain surety in the notion, the players may change but the story goes on forever.

Wishing you and yours the happiest of holiday seasons. Welcome back the light on Solstice Night.





www.nancymbell.ca

Sunday, November 18, 2018

It's Almost Christmas by Nancy M Bell


TO find out more about A Longview Christmas and my other books click on the cover and then scroll down in the website to see the Holiday titles.

Christmas is one of my favourite times of year. I thought I would share some childhood Christmas memories.


The Rafter Family Christmas Eve was always a variation of the same theme.

My parents would pack up the two youngest children, myself and my sister Wendy, and set off in the car to visit my Dad’s sisters ( my aunts) who lived in various parts of Toronto and the outlying area.
My Aunt Ola and Uncle Bunny lived near Whitevale, Ontario with my cousins Rose and Fred. They lived on a farm and had the most amazing white farmhouse. The floors always were polished to diamond brilliance and I loved their kitchen. Lots of room and tons of windows, it was a wonderful welcoming place. The adults would visit and we would play with Rosie and Freddy our cousins, either outside in the snow or inside on the floor. We would drop off our gifts and receive the ones that went home to go under our tree.

After eating Christmas goodies we would all pile back into the car and head off to the next aunt’s house.

Auntie Joy and Uncle Norm lived in the west end of the city with a house full of our cousins. Glennie was the oldest and then Charlie, Suzanne, Wayne, Billy, Dennis and Brenda. There was always lots to do at Auntie Joy’s, we played games and one year when they lived in Streetsville we played in the ravine near their house and got totally covered in burrs. We were not popular children when we got home. There was great food and the cousins always had the latest in games and toys to play with We dropped off the presents and packed the ones for us into the car and we were off again.

Next stop Aunt Loral and Uncle Bob and cousins Debbie and Lori. Aunt Loral’s was usually the last stop in the early years.

My Aunt Gloria and Uncle Tommy and Cindy and Tammy Lori lived in Caladar, which was up near North Bay when we were young, we would go and visit them on New Year’s Day every year. Later years they moved to Toronto, not far from Aunt Loral and we stopped there on Christmas Eve as well. Aunt Irma ( who later changed her name legally to Rocky) and Uncle Wally lived near Ottawa and we did not get to see them as often, or our cousins Gary and Scott.
Aunt Loral had a very small house and it always seemed so crammed full of Christmas. The living room was usually quite dark and the tree seemed to fill it up totally. She had the most amazing tree topper that was all the colors of the rainbow and it sent the colors all over the room, reflecting off all the walls and the front room window. As this was our last stop Wendy and I were both tired and didn’t spend too much time actually playing with Debbie and Lori. It was also getting late and near bed time so that Santa could come and leave his gifts for us. There was always time for yet more goodies and more pop. Aunt Loral always had great fruit cake at her house. Dark and moist. She also had a zillion of the little statues that used to come in Red Rose Tea. They were lined up on the top of the door frames in her kitchen and just about anywhere that you looked We always put the tree up on December 20th as that was my birthday. Mom and Dad never wanted to put the tree up earlier than that as we always had a real tree and they worried that it would dry out.
We had these really cool bubble lights that were all different colors but got really hot when you left them on too long. There was a fluffy white angel on top.
One Christmas Eve when we were still outside in the driveway just getting out of the car Wendy and I got a huge surprise. There, coming down the Cooney’s driveway, who were our next door neighbors, was Santa Claus!

We both screamed and then bolted for the back door. If Santa came while were still up and awake he wouldn’t leave us anything. We tore through the back door into the kitchen and down the back hall to the bedroom. With our wet snow boots and coats still on Wendy and I scrambled into bed and pulled the covers over our heads. I had a harder time getting into bed as I had to climb up into the top bunk, but I made it. Mom and Dad came in and tried to get us to take off our coats and boots and change into night clothes. Wendy and I wouldn’t budge, we were pretending to be asleep so that Santa would leave our presents. We were sure that he was coming to our house any moment because we KNEW he just next door and he hadn’t been to our house next. He must have already been to Jo-anne and John Lee’s place because they lived on the other side of the Cooneys, so we had to be next. Mom and Dad must have removed our boots after we were asleep because they were gone in the morning. And Santa did leave our presents for us that year.







Thursday, December 14, 2017

Christmases Past...by Sheila Claydon


My latest book, Empty Hearts, is a vintage romance. It isn't about Christmas, but the cover, designed by the wonderful Michelle Lee at Stardust Creations at http://michelleleedesigns.net evokes the spirit of Christmas, chilly though it is.

I have very mixed feelings about Christmas. For a start I don't like cold weather. I'm not that keen on crowded shops either, or the ever increasing razzmatazz that is the modern celebration. On the other hand I love seeing family and friends, and I especially love seeing how much children enjoy it.

This year, all my immediate family are going to spend Christmas together for first time in 9 years so the house is going to be very full, as are the cupboards and the fridge, with the overflow stored in a cold outhouse. Consequently I have had to start thinking about it much earlier than usual this year, and this has prompted me to recall the Christmases I enjoyed when I was small.

The first one I remember was the one when my parents gave me a dolls house. I was probably about 5 years old and it wasn't any old dolls house, it was one they made themselves. Money was tight so buying a fancy one was out of the question, so my father divided a wooden box into 4 'rooms' and papered each one with scraps of wallpaper. Offcuts of carpet were stuck to the floor and curtains were hung at the windows on tiny lengths of wire so I could open and close them. Although the windows themselves were merely holes in the wall I thought the whole thing was magical. My Mother, meanwhile, was busy with the furniture. I can still clearly remember the flower-patterned sofa and two armchairs. They were comfortably padded and had frills around the base and it was a very long time before I discovered that they were made out of matchboxes. The bed in the upstairs room had pillows and sheets and a bedspread (no duvets or throws in those days) and there was also an upholstered cot (another matchbox) for the baby.  I don't remember the rest of the furniture so clearly but I know there was a bathroom and a kitchen with a few pieces of bought furniture. No stairs of course but my family of dolls were all very adept at clambering up the walls to the upper floor, and I certainly don't recall considering that a defect. Far from it. I thought it was the most perfect house I had ever seen, especially as my Father had somehow found some stick-on paper that looked like tiles for the sloping roof. What a gift, and knowing how I feel when I see my grandchildren open a special present, I imagine they had as much joy as I did.

When I was older books and drawing materials were my preferred option, and there are two other Christmases I particularly remember. The first is when I received an artist's palette, paintbrushes, some tiny tubes of oil paint and a few canvases. My parents and grandmother all had to sit for their portraits and for years those pictures hung on the walls of my childhood home. Sadly they disappeared a long time ago, probably around the time I got married and my mother cleared out my bedroom. As I fondly remember them as true likeness it is probably just as well I can no longer see them and  be disillusioned as to my artistic skills.

The final Christmas that was special was the one where every present was a book! I can still remember my parents' faces as the pile grew taller and taller (I had a lot of aunts and uncles!). I think they were worried I would be disappointed, but I wasn't. I loved being given what was essentially a mini library and I still have some of those books today, ones that I have shared with my granddaughters. What Katy Did is a favourite.

So when I see my grandchildren open their presents this Christmas I will be remembering the excitement and hopefully at least one of them will receive a present that they will never forget.

Merry Christmas!

You can see all Sheila's books at:

http://bookswelove.net/authors/claydon-sheila/

They are available at:


And if you have time, then stop in and visit her at:






Monday, December 28, 2015

Fear of Snowmen: Winter Confessions by Connie Vines

It is the holiday season.  Jingle Bells, Santa Claus, Reindeer, Mugs of Hot Chocolate, and Snowmen.
Snowmen?

Now just wait a second, no one mentioned there were going to be any Snowmen!

Yes, I must confess I have a phobia.  My phobia has a name, too. Hominochionophobia.

It is an odd fear and since I reside in southern California, a fear I can avoid/ ignore—except during the winter holidays.  The reason I cannot ignore my odd little phobia during the winter is because Hominochionophobia is a fear of snowmen.

Here in the United States, snowmen are everywhere during the holidays.  On the daily news, imprinted on paper plates, fashioned into huge inflatables on people’s front lawns.  You get the idea.
What most people see.

In my world, snowmen Christmas cards are turned so that only the back of the card faces outward, no snowmen decorations or ornaments are allowed in the house. Under no circumstances can I be expected to watch any television shows or movies revolving around snowmen.

Over the several years, I have been working on overcoming this fear. Why?  Because the school counselor thought I needed an intervention.  Yep, you guessed it.  The entire administrative staff gathered around my desk, singing “Frosty the Snowman”.  Oh, it gets even better.  They were all wearing top hats, and a pointy snowman nose was fastened to each one of their excited faces. They leaned over me and  I nearly had a panic attack when I jumped from my chair.

What I see.
I began with tiny steps.

I made progress.

I drew glasses on the faces of the snowmen on Christmas cards.

I was able to look at gift-wrap covered with pictures of snowmen.

I didn't glance way when we drove past lighten displays.

I thought I had everything under control.

Then it happened!

Play the “screeching violin in Alfred Hitchcock’s bloody Psycho shower scene” here.

My reaction when we meet!
Four days ago, I attended my brother’s Christmas Eve party.

I was okay upon spying the welcome mat with the prominent face of a snowman. I stepped on the mat, instead of leaping over the top, or darting around the edges.  I even commented on the snowman’s very large top hat as a tree topper being a showstopper when I stepped inside the entryway.  Sugar cookies decorated as snowmen, on the appetizer table, no problem.

After the wonderfully prepared buffet dinner and before the children opened their gifts, I went to the powder room.

Play the “screeching violin” again, only much, much louder!

I stepped inside the large room, locked the door and turned around.

I did not scream. I did jump and turn around and bump into a snowman on the counter.  There were snowman towels, snowman rugs—snowmen everything!  My vision became a bit fuzzy but I did not hyperventilate.

I regained my composure, washed my hands and sedately exited the powder room.

However, I must have looked a little wild-eyed when we gathered together for pictures because my sister-in-law exclaimed, “Didn’t anyone warn Aunt Connie?”

This snowman is life size!  


Happy New Year,

Connie Vines

Please click on my purchase links for my novels.

See you next month.

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Wednesday, December 23, 2015

THE ADVENT CALENDAR by Victoria Chatham



Over the years my Christmases haven’t been built so much on traditions as memories.

My earliest recollections of Christmas are at my grandmother’s house with a passel of assorted relatives and friends. Gran always had a real tree, with real candles placed in holders shaped liked peacocks with long feathery tales. Health and Safety measures today would have those banned in a flash! Lighting the candles was always the task of the man of the house. Being war time and with most of the men in the family being spread throughout the forces, this would be the task of any male who was lucky enough to have home leave.

As an adult with a family of my own I made sure that Christmas was a really fun time for my kids. One year we built our own Advent calendar. It started with a long piece of wallpaper taped the length of the dining room wall and a big star which had to be moved each day to indicate the progress of Wise Men’s journey as they followed the star to Bethlehem.


Each day we added something, one of the Wise Men riding his camel, or a sheep or two. The Wise Men’s robes and turbans were cut out from fabric scraps and re-purposed jewelry. Wool to make the camels realistic came from real sheep’s wool pulled from the barbed wire fences around their field. Trees were made using twigs and leaves picked up during a walk through the woods. A lot of glue was necessary for this procedure.

As the scene progressed so did the number of neighbor kids who wanted to help build the calendar. We had many discussions as to how many hills the Wise Men would have traveled over and how wide the desert was. Real sand and small pebbles came into the picture here. A swipe of paste on the paper, then the kids stood back and threw sand at it. A lot stuck but I was thankful to have a tiled dining room floor to make the resulting clean up easy. The final scene was the one we had the most fun with as we added the ox and the ass making them tactile with unraveled knitting wool in appropriate colors and cut into suitable lengths for fur. The angel over the stable had real wings, courtesy of the neighbor’s flock of white chickens which almost went into shock when they saw a dozen kids advancing on their run to collect their fallen feathers.

The children were all concerned that the final scene of Baby Jesus in the manger be done properly. They chose to make a straw doll and wrap it in a length of bandage for the swaddling clothes. None of them wanted to miss out on placing Baby Jesus in his manger, a collage of crisscrossed drinking straws and real straw, so on Christmas morning I had a house full of children and their parents in to finish the calendar. Hot chocolate for the kids, coffee laced with a little something for the adults, cookies aplenty and good will all round.

After Christmas the calendar was carefully taken down and rolled up. The kids talked about it so much when they went back to school that one of the teachers asked me about it and came to our house to see it. His excitement was palpable as we unrolled it. My kids explained what we had made each day and who had helped and how they’d had to discourage one eager participant from putting a red post box in the desert as they hadn’t been invented yet. Rather than be relegated to our attic until the next year, that calendar went off to school where it was enjoyed and embellished for several years more.

But the fun we had building it never lost the sense of reverence for the meaning behind it. I don’t even know if any of the children involved in its construction would remember it now with as much fondness as do I. Of all my Christmases, wherever they have been or whoever I have spent them with, that is my most vivid Christmas memory of all.


Merry Christmas to all of you and a happy, healthy and successful New Year!





www.twitter.com/@VChathamAuthor

Friday, December 18, 2015

It's Almost Christmas and we've got SNOW! by Nancy M Bell

Hello again. Hard to believe a month has gone by so fast. Christmas is just around the corner and the air is filled with carols and Christmas music everywhere. The town has put up their light display in Nose Creek Park and it is spectacular as always.


My birthday is on the 20th and man, I'm getting old! It got me thinking about Christmas when we were kids. I thought I'd share a few memories with you all. Every Christmas Eve we would pile in the car and visit four of my dad's five sisters. Auntie Irma lived near Ottawa and that was too far for a day trip. But we hit all the others, from Whitevale to Mississauga. By the end of the night we were full of junk food and high on sugar. One Christmas Eve we had just pulled in the drive at home when what did we see but Santa Claus coming down the neighbor's drive. My sister and I jumped out of the car and raced into the house. We slept in bunk beds in our parent's room. We ran through the kitchen down the hall and into our beds with our coats and boots still. We refused to get up and take them off because SANTA WAS RIGHT NEXT DOOR AND HE WAS COMING HERE NEXT!

Of course, he still came even though we only pretended to be asleep for about ten minutes before we really fell asleep. The Christmas Eve journey was always exhausting. In the morning we got up early and opened presents except for the ones for my gramma and grampa who lived with us. Daddy would make bacon and eggs for breakfast and then my grandparents would get up and we'd open presents with them. Right after that the kitchen was off limits to us as Mom and Gramma started working on Christmas dinner.

Aunt Francis and Uncle Jim always came for dinner and brought their dachshund with them. Over the years the dogs changed, but always a dachshund. Sandy, Tanja, and I can't remember the last one's name. We could get away with murder when Sandy was around because he would bite Daddy if he tried to discipline us. Aunt Francis sold Avon so we always knew the gift was something from Avon. For dinner Dad would pull out the big table that folded up very small and put in all the leaves so it filled the whole living room. Granted the house was pretty small but to me it seemed like the biggest table ever.

From my family to yours wishing you all the best for the Holiday Season.


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