“What if Christmas doesn’t come from a store.
What if Christmas … perhaps … means a little bit more!””

 Quote from the Grinch, Dr. Seuss1957

December… synonymous with Christmas for me. So a couple of weeks ago I started asking some friends about their happiest recollections of this festive season and every time someone would hark back to a special moment it set off another lightbulb in the ol’ brainola. Gotta tell some tales. Sheesh, I could write a book!

Family was the common thread to my friends’ memories of Christmas. Me too. But more specifically it centered around one of my favourite 4-letter words that starts with F (besides ‘free’): FOOD. Even to this day when I smell turkey, I smell Christmas. That’s probably because the last thing my mom would do before going to bed Christmas eve (more like early morning) was to stuff & put the turkey in the oven. When I awoke the aroma hit me like a ton of bricks. Mmmm.

In any of the various homes we lived in I don’t ever recall having a fireplace or mantle to hang our stockings on so they were at the bottom of our beds. I think this was a devious plan hatched by my parents. That stocking kept us busy for at least an addition hour of sleeptime for them. An apple, a tangerine, some nuts, some Christmas candy (usually candy ‘ribbon’). Then my sisters and I (and later my baby brother) would cajole my parents to wake up & get crack’in. I was the lucky one, for about 7 years. Being the youngest, I got to go down the stairs first, spy the lit tree simply oozing with presents.

The tree: Although we never chopped down our own tree, Dad always brought home a magnificent specimen. Everyone that I talked with said the same thing. There was a ritual to making a Christmas tree. We got ours the second week in December. Dad would put it in a pot, make a sturdy base because that tree would have to survive through the season without needles flying off it. It was watered every morning. And the smell, again the smell of a fir tree or a pine tree to this day, takes me right back to the HoHoHo season. When it was in place the whole family got to decorating. But there was an organized system: 1. The lights. Dad would string them with Mom’s supervision. The dead bulbs were replaced. Then came the décor. We’d spent hours the previous days making popcorn strings, paper chains, paper angel garlands. They went on first. Then the glass balls. The best ones were from Germany, so ornate. And last the tinsel. Every year we asked if we could just throw a bunch on. We thought it would be fun. The answer was no, 1 strand at a time. My first Christmas away from home though I did throw the tinsel on with abandon. It looked horrible.

The presents: well because there were the 3 of us girls so close in age, my parents would endeavour to give us similar toys, clothes, gifts in general. It almost never worked, except for the easy-bake ovens and the 3 foot PattyPal dolls. Now they were a hit. About 65 years later I spied a doll at the Thrift store & snatched it up real quick. (Her name is Rickie & I`m often told how she ‘really creeps people out’! heehee). But my Mom`s homemade presents were special. She had been a seamstress for a fur coat company (made her own coat out of small scraps of fur too) and would always make a snazzy outfit for each of us hanging on the tree on that magical morning. “But I wanted the blue one”, pout pout. Today we laugh about my mom’s classic response, “next year it will be different. You’ll all get an envelop pinned on the tree with a cheque inside and you can get what you want”. Of course that never happened.

There was one other year that really stands out in my warm memory bank. It had nothing to do with me me only me. Mom had always wanted a chandelier but moving from Army posting to posting sort of put a damper on that dream of hers. When we moved to our final place in London, Ontario my sweet Dad surprised her one Christmas. After they had stuffed the stockings, wrapped up all the presents and Mom had the turkey going they went to bed. When Dad knew that Mom was asleep he got up, brought out the hidden gift, and started painstakingly constructing the crystal chandelier. He replaced the simple switch on the wall for a dimmer switch, removed the old fixture and hung the chandelier.  Just as he was about to finish, it became unhinged and fell with a crash onto the table. Segue here: I was the only one that heard the crash…I momentarily thought, ‘wow Santa’s on the roof?’, but I was a young teenager by then and figured it was just a dream! Amazingly no crystals broke, Dad finished the job and probably got at least 2 hours sleep before the morning ritual. Mom didn’t notice the chandelier until she tried to switch on the dining room light and it was a dimmer switch instead. She instinctively looked up and started to cry. So did I. I think Sandy and Sharon did too.  Years later, when selling the family home I got that chandelier. It’s in my living room, a daily reminder of true love and happy family times. They say you can never go back….but it sure feels good to remember, especially at Christmas.

Jackie Moad.
World Traveler.
Environmentalist.
Organic Farmer.

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