The Squamidian Report – Dec. 20 / 08
Issue #343
Including:
Beth’s Christmas Creation
Christmas Carol
Vivyan’s Most Memorable Christmas
From Russ & Barb
The Ontarion
Hi All,
Ever notice how the older you get, the faster time seems to fly. Here we are, into the second half of December and barreling down on Christmas like an out-of-control freight train. Kinda reminds one of those lyrics in that song, ‘Wreck of the old ‘97’, the ones that go…
“He
was goin' down grade making 90 miles an hour
When his whistle broke into a scream “
Those lines do a great job of describing how the year has flown by, picking up speed with each passing day. They also do a great job of painting a picture of all the people driving around and running around like crazy and just plain going mad in their annual stampede of haste, hurry and stress. Regardless of how you see it, Christmas is upon us, again.
*
A couple of weeks ago, Greg kicked off the idea of telling a Christmas story and invited everyone to relate one of their own. Nova Scotia Sus told a great one about their helicopter Santa. I haven’t been able to think of any particular situation, but I do remember an incident from many years ago, probably about HALF A CENTURY AGO, when my brothers, sisters and I were all still young kids, way back in public school days. I can’t remember if we were getting ready for a school Christmas pageant, (we could still have those back then), or a Sunday School Christmas presentation. What I can remember is that each of us was supposed to learn the lines to a poem. Four out of five learned their lines just fine. However, brother Gary couldn’t get his lines learned, no matter how hard he tried. For days and days he went over them, we all tried to help him. In the process, we all learned HIS lines but he never really did. To this day, the rest of us in the family can recite those lines, word for word.
Want to read the lines from the short poem that Gary didn’t learn but the rest of us have permanently burned into our memories? Well, here they are….
A little elf helped Santa Clause
His name was Jingle Bell
I guess there wasn’t anything
He couldn’t do quite well
He painted the wooden soldiers
And dressed the dollies hair
And saw that the bounce was right in balls
And was most everywhere.
Poor brother Gary couldn’t get that second to last line right no matter how hard or long her tried. Alas, the trials and tribulations of being a kid at Christmas.
*
The whole western part of this country has been held in a deep freeze, courtesy of a vary large and strong Arctic High. Out here on or near the coast the High sets up what are called Arctic Outflow winds. That’s when the heavy cold air settles into the valleys and begins to flow down hill and out to the sea, becoming cold strong winds. These winds hit hurricane force on several days and in many areas. They also caused wind-chill factors that worked out to –20 or so around the normally balmy coast. It’s not out of the ordinary to have Arctic Outflows during the winter, it can happen several times. It is out of the ordinary to have one this early in the season and to have it last for 2 weeks. They usually last about 2 days. So with temperatures climbing to –5 at a time of year when they should be climbing up to +7 or 8, combined with daytime wind-chills of –10, things are pretty well frozen solid.
These cold conditions create a bit of a challenge when trying to stay warm when outside. You see, there is very little in the way of proper winter clothing available in coastal BC. Oh, there is lots of that high-tech, high fashion, grossly expensive Gore-Tex stuff that the well-to-do types from the city wear as they speed madly up to Whistler in their high end SUV’s. But that stuffs not really made for someone who actually has to work out in the cold. There is also the normal, west coast winter jacket things, but they are designed more to keep a bit of rain off. Those Outflow winds go right through.
I had decided to go out for a nice walk in the howling wind just for the fun of it. Kind of like walking in the winter back home. However, I was just wearing my normal, west coast winter jacket and only made it a short distance before changing my mind and direction and headed back home. Once in the house I dug through the closet and pulled out my trusty old ‘Ontario Parka’, long, wind proof and down-filled. About the only time I ever get to wear it here is when we walk around up in Whistler on New Years Eve. I pulled on my old Ontario Parka and headed back out to enjoy my walk, cozy as can be.
The stormy weather has the wintering eagles grounded. When the sky is gray and the winds are whipping up, the big birds take shelter in the trees along the river. Those same trees are also along the highway so anyone driving through town gets to see dozens of eagles, some mature with their distinctive white heads and tails, others still young from last year with their brownish colour. The eagles must get bored just roosting there in the trees because some of them start to play with the traffic going by under them. They swoop down over the cars, follow them for a short distance and then swoop back up, only to do it all over again. I guess they are having fun, eagle style. When the clouds break, they take off high into the sky where they can be seen soaring for hours on end.
doug
****
Beth delivered her Christmas creation on December 3rd. Click this link for pictures of baby Vivienne:
http://www.thedougsite.net/F&F/Pictures/Others/Vivienne.htm
****
Have you noticed that the best Christmas memories come from either when you were a child or from when your own children were little? I always loved the children’s Christmas concerts, both when I was young and I loved watching my daughters participate. Unlike their mother, who can do speaking parts but can’t carry a tune, my girls have voices of angels and always shone during the concerts. Al and I still love the Christmas service that involves the children best – we are looking forward to the years when little Vivienne starts taking part. I can still recite part of a poem my brother Gary spent forever trying to memorize for a Christmas production at the old Freeport Church. He said it out loud so often that I believe the rest of us knew it better then he did. Anyone else remember “a little elf helped Santa Claus, his name was Jinglebell?” One year, when I was a teenager, Rev. Oaten had us enact the whole nativity play on a stage at Fairview mall. Can you imagine a mall actually allowing a religious Christmas event happening there now? Santa always came at the end of our church concerts to hand out wonderful treats – like oranges. When we were young everyone ate local produce because it was the only affordable option, oranges were a once a year luxury. Now buying and eating local produce is the in thing and more expensive then the items trucked from California or flown in from who knows where. Santa continued to come to our church Christmas productions Sunday afternoon or evening until the mid 80’s when we had a minister who didn’t approve of Santa in church.
I never believed in telling my children the myth about Santa Claus but I still enjoyed watching the faces of the little ones who believed, as their names were called. The reason I never signed any gift under the tree “Santa” was because as a child I used to think Santa was so unfair that he always gave more things to a boy named David Witmer, whom I didn’t like, than to any other kid in the school – and David already had more toys than anyone. I still loved every present I ever received as a child (2 that stand out in my mind are the village Dad built us, and the year we received our dog Tuc) but hated that when we returned to school after the new year David would have to outshine everyone listing his gifts. Also I noticed that the worst bullies still received lots of presents so my thought process was “what naughty thing have I been doing and what good thing has the bully been doing that only Santa and God knows about?” It was a relief to find out Santa was a myth and really had nothing to do with the birth of Jesus Christ or God’s unconditional love that we celebrate each December. And it is still wondrous to appreciate the miracle of new life as seen in little Vivienne, in Ella & Ian and all little ones.
I do have one embarrassing Christmas memory to share. It happened when the girls were in their late teens. Each year, as far back as I can remember, I’ve finished our Christmas Eve celebration with the late night worship service at church. One year Beth’s then boyfriend gave me, as a joke, Christmas underwear that played “Jingle Bells” when you pressed a hidden button and would stop when you pressed the button again. Of course I had to say that I was putting them on then and there. I hit the button a couple of times and everyone laughed. Later we went to the late night worship service. Suddenly, in the middle of the service, the musical underwear started playing, without the button being touched! I frantically tried pressing the button to turn it back off while pretending I had no idea where the music was coming from. I made a quick exit to the ladies room where I removed the offending garment, rolled it up in paper towels and stuffed it in the garbage. You could still hear the muffled sound coming from the ladies washroom after the service.
I wish each of you a safe, happy and blest Christmas,
****
It was in 1948 and we had already been having a lot of snow so there were big snow banks along the roads. Gale was going to be two the day after Christmas and Doug was expected to come along about the middle of January. Of course I was too dumb to think about the possibility Doug coming early and I was home sick for my family. Christmas day was a bit stormy but we decided to go anyway. We picked up my sister, brother-in-law and their 2 girls and headed up to my parents farm. Sandra was to turn 6 the day after Christmas (Gale’s birthday) and Denise had turned 3 in August. Everything went well until we got almost to Alma where we got stuck in a snow bank. They wouldn’t let me push (I wonder why) so I had to drive while the others pushed us through the snow banks. Snow got into the motor and the car wasn’t running very well. There was an open garage in Alma and the mechanic worked on the car while Verlet and I tried to keep the girls warm. The mechanic got the car running good and we went on our way and made it to Cedarville.
My parents didn’t have a phone yet so we phoned my uncle from one of the neighbours place and Dad was at my uncle’s with his Model A Ford. Dad came to meet us and made a track with his vehicle through the snow to the farm. There was a houseful of relatives. When I got out of the car into the cold my water broke. Dad and Lorne went 2 miles up the road to a neighbour that had a phone to call a doctor, but there wasn’t one available. They then called an ambulance to come from Mount Forest. By the time the ambulance made it to the farm the roads were worse and the drivers wouldn’t risk getting stuck with me on the way to the hospital in the worsening storm. Doug decided he wasn’t going to wait and put in an appearance about 10:30 p.m. with my mother in attendance and a house full of guests. The doctor from Dundalk made it through in his 4-wheel drive around 1:30 a.m. and was able to sew me up.
It was a Christmas that none of the people there would ever forget. The main thing was that Doug was a healthy 7 lb. baby. My 2 nieces were very upset with my mother for letting Gale have the baby boy Santa left under the Christmas tree. They were both older then Gale and wanted a baby boy so badly. Remember, I said this was the Christmas of 1948, 60 years ago. So a very happy 60th birthday to Doug on Christmas Day!
Have a good Christmas everyone and a happy and healthy New Year.
****
The Three Trees
Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods. They were discussing their hopes and dreams when the first tree said, "Someday I hope to be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. I could be decorated with intricate carving and everyone would see the beauty."
Then the second tree said, "Someday I will be a mighty ship. I will take Kings and Queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull."
Finally the third tree said, "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People will see me on top of the hill and look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God and how close to them I am reaching. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me."
After a few years of praying that their dreams would come true, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. When one came to the first tree he said, "This looks like a strong tree, I think I should be able to sell the wood to a carpenter," and he began cutting it down. The tree was happy, because he knew that the carpenter would make him into a treasure chest.
At the second tree the woodsman said, "This looks like a strong tree. I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship.
When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, the tree was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down, his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need any special wood quality from my tree, I'll take this one," and he cut it down.
When the first tree arrived at the carpenter's, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not at all what he had prayed for.
The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end.
The third tree was cut into large timber and left in a pile of lumber, alone in the dark ... his dreams of being the tallest tree, reaching toward heaven, were gone.
The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams. Then one day, a man and woman came to the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box that was made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but this manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time.
Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and he stood and said "Peace" and the storm stopped. At this time, the tree knew that it had carried the King of Kings in its boat.
Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as the people mocked the man who was carrying it. When they came to a stop, the man was nailed to the tree and raised in the air to die at the top of a hill. When Sunday came, the tree came to realize that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as was possible, because Jesus had been crucified on it.
The moral of this story is that when things don't seem to be going your way, always know that God has a plan for you. If you place your trust in Him, God will give you great gifts. Each of the trees got what they wanted, just not in the way they had imagined. We don't always know what God's plans are for us. We just know that His ways are not our ways, but His ways are always best.
****
Hello Everyone!
Well, it’s time for the tellin’ of Christmas tales
and sittin’ round the fire with loved ones sippin’ eggnog! I’ve been thinking
of all the years I’ve celebrated Christmas and have come up with the idea that
I pretty much enjoyed every one of ‘em. Heck there may have been one or two
disappointments over the years way back when we were kids but for the most
part, Christmas has been the one occasion every year that I look forward to.
Having the career I did was a little tough on family life when it came to being
home with loved ones on Christmas. As it was, I had to take my turn like every
other firefighter working either nights or days on this special occasion. We
worked 14 hours from 6pm to 8am on nights for 4 nights in a row or 10 hour days
from 8am to 6pm for 4 days in a row. When picking holidays for the coming year
which we did mid October, we took turns according to seniority having a chance
at getting Christmas as one of our picks. I was lucky enough to be on a platoon
where the senior guys who could have picked Christmas every year were kind
hearted and would let the Junior members have a crack at being home with their
young families by choosing Christmas during these picking sessions. The younger
guys very much appreciated their generosity and would return the favour
wherever possible during the year. It was a difficult experience to have to get
up early enough with the kids to get to watch them open their presents from
Santa before heading off to the Fire Hall for the day. Lots of the guys would
have their kids open their gifts on Christmas Eve so they could be home for the
event. We always had the tradition of opening them on Christmas Day so Carole,
Adam and I would be up bright and early to do the opening so I wouldn’t miss
out on Adam’s happy times. Others would have their family wait until they got
home Christmas day from work at 6pm to open everything but I never thought that
was fair to the family. We agreed early on in our family raising that we would
not miss the early Christmas morning opening of gifts just so I could get to work.
We always rose early enough to have time to spend together Christmas morning.
We continue to follow this tradition even today and it’s one of my favourite
days of the year!
*
All this “Holiday Christmas being home” talk gets me
thinking back to a part of my life that I rarely talk about anymore. When we
graduated from high school in 1968, the Viet Nam war was raging in full tilt
and many of us talked about signing up with one of the US armed forces and
doing our part in the fight against evil communism. Well, as it turned out,
three of us decided to head to Buffalo and check out a recruiting station. We
wound up signing up for a three-year stint in the US Marine Corps. Our first
trip was to Camp Pendleton in San Diego California for basic training in the “1st
Marine Corps Unit – USMC Pendleton”. After six grueling months of heavy ground
combat training we were split up and sent off in different units to serve a
stint in Viet Nam. Upon arrival in Nam I was immediately deployed to one of the
forward units and our job was to make entry into a heavily held Communist area
just south of Da Nang. We were settled in for the night after a fierce
firefight with a small platoon of Viet Cong on the edge of a very dense jungle
area. There were trenches and foxholes everywhere and it wasn’t hard to find a
hole to hunker down in. The American Marines were great guys but as you must
have heard over the years, they are a tad gullible. As the night wore on, we
realized it was Christmas Eve and everybody of course was missing his family.
The unit I was in was a mixed bag of guys from all over the US and even several
Canadian guys. It was pitch black and nobody could sleep for fear of being
overrun by Cong when not paying attention. So we began to talk. It started with
asking each other where we were from. It wasn’t difficult to tell that we had a
Newfie in our midst. The American corporal we had with us asked each one of us
our background and hometown etc. When he got to the east coaster he asked him
“Where are you from?” The Newfie replied…. “I’m from St Johns Newfoundland!”
The Corporal being from Texas didn’t have a clue where that was and asked him
to explain. The Newfie said “Well, its as far east as you can go in Canada.
It’s actually an island that’s located way out in the Atlantic Ocean from the
mainland of Canada.” The Corporal sat and thought for a few minutes and said
“Hmmmmm…..Atlantic Ocean??... Hmm Africa’s on the Atlantic Ocean, is
Newfoundland anywhere near Africa?” The Newf thought for a minute and then
replied matter of factly “Lard Tunderin’! You know I guess it must be! There
was a black guy that worked next to me on the Tuna canning line back home and
he used to go home for lunch!”
*
Ho Ho Ho! And Merry Christmas Everyone!
This has just been one more tale to add to the
collection of tails that lead Santa all over the world on Christmas Eve! Ho Ho
Ho! As you all know, I love to tell stories and see people’s reaction to them.
This is one I’ve been telling for years and usually I manage to keep people
spellbound for every word of it and still some of them don’t get the punch
line. I guess they may have a little “American” in them too!
I hope you enjoyed my “Viet Christmas Eve” tale and
I hope no Newfie’s were offended in the telling!
That’s it for this week folks!
Thanks for tuning in and I hope you’ll join me again
next week in The Ontarion Report!
Carole, Adam and I wish you all a Very Merry
Christmas!
Love to all…. Greg.
PS: Something To Think About>
I sure hope Iraq and Afghanistan aren’t going to
turn into another Viet Nam!
****
And to all, a good night
the doug
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