Arc De Triomphe

During one of my Christmas breaks between University semesters a group of friends and  myself went on 'tour' visiting our respective families.   A couple came from Regina to my parents' farm home , slept overnight, and then I joined them on the trip to another friend's home for an overnight stay in another rural community and consequently piled them and their luggage into the ever more crowded compact car and drove again to another community staying overnight and again traveling the next day .  We went from Lemberg, Wapella, Redvers, Weyburn and Halbrite and back to Regina in time for classes to begin.

It was at this time whilst staying in a modest  farmhouse which was probably built in the 1920's and heated by oil furnace that I was privileged to witness a family's literal 'timeless' New Year's tradition.

The morning of January 1 of this particular year my friend's Mom asked him to go find the ladder and bring it to the kitchen.  He nodded knowingly and went outside soon to return with  a frosty wooden step ladder marked with  the paint splatters of many household renovations from the past.  

I watched with curiosity as my friend,without direction or comment, placed the step ladder directly in front of the archway between the kitchen and living room, while his mother was interestingly enough busying herself by ripping pages off of calendars.

It was only when my friend ,  giving a brief knowing glance at his mother, climbed the stepladder that I noticed several calendars tacked to the wall above the arch.  I counted twelve calendars in total.

It was then that I realized what was going to happen.  The twelve calendars from 'last year' were about to be replaced by twelve calendars of 'this year', with each showing their own particular month of the year.  Every calendar was different, from a different place of business or particular theme.  They were different sizes and styles.  Some had tractors or prairie scenes, others were from local grocery stores or drug stores with images of flowers, birds, recipes, or animals. Some had large numbers and days displayed which would be  easily read from the floor, while others  smaller and more compact which would make viewing  more difficult. 

 Much, if not all,  of this melange of pictures, colours, size, and print was 'par hazard'. I do not believe there was a conscious choice made as to which  picture would be  chosen  to rest for the year beside another as calendar pages were ripped off. The goal was merely to have one page of each coming month of the year be exposed.  

The evidence that this was not the first time this was done was not only the almost total non verbal communication between the two decorators, but also by the numerous faded rectangular shapes that dotted the archway along with the telltale holes left by tacks and staples in the  long ago painted pressboard.

While perhaps some of the balance, colours, and spacing was not quite 'right' artistically, there was something 'right' in the son and mother camaraderie as he descended the ladder and  they both stepped back and looked up approvingly at the next year's Arc De Triomphe . 

 

 

 

It is a nice memory.

Then I.....

 I went to the city to do spend some Christmas money and this is what happened.


  First I saw a Digital Toaster $119.99.

 And then I thought, "What fer?"

 

                                            

 Then I saw a Cuisenart Breakfast Centre (Silver) $149.99

 And then I thought, "What fer?"

 



 Then I saw an Electric Fondue @ $114.

 

 And then I thought, "What fer?"

 Then I saw a Popcorn Maker @ $79.99.

 And then I thought, "What fer?"

 Then I saw a Multi Slice Toaster @ $130.

 And then I thought, "What fer?"

    Then I saw an Individual Coffee Maker @ $219.99.

 And then I thought, "What fer?"

 

 

 

 



 Then I saw a Neuro Fuzzy Rice Cooker and Warmer in Premium White @ $245.

 And then I thought , "What fer?"

 

 

 Then I saw a Home Bakery Bread Maker @ $184.

 And then I thought , "What fer?"

 Then I saw a Programmable Tea Steeper @ $140.

And then I thought, " What fer?"

 Then I saw a Vintage Style Hot Dog Toaster @ $39.99.

 And then I thought, "What fer?"

 Then I saw a Mug Warmer @ $14.99

 And I thought , "How is THAT gunna work?"

 



Needless to say my cart stayed empty and I didn't have to wait in line at the cashier.

 

 

'Tis the Season to think of the Reason.

Yeppers..presents are opened. Turkey is cooked. Candy is gone. Pudding has been downed.  Tree has lost its lustre. Carols have become monotonous.  Work is hearkening above the chorus of angels.  Bills are arriving as the guests are departing.

It's Over!

    or is it?

I don't think so TIM

 I think if one has really celebrated a true Christmas filled with Peace On Earth and Good  Will Towards Men showing kindness and forgiveness to all then I suspect that Christmas 2012 will never truly end.  I bet its effect will reverberate throughout the coming months even if not everyone understands  all the theological implications and possibilities.

The Miracle of Christmas that God sent His Son to live among us here on Earth is not the end of Christmas Miracles.

 I think Christmas Miracles still happen every year  even after 2000 plus years in the form of the amount of Forgiveness, Sacrifice for Others, and expressions of Love not only towards family , but also towards strangers that occurs for these few short weeks of the year.

 The effort to reconnect with one another through gift giving, traveling long (and short) distances to be with friends and family, along with  the expressions of Good Will through seasonal cards, letters, emails, and visits all prove to me that Christmas Miracles happen and continue to act as banners for the Reason for the Season.

There were many many people in many many lands affected by this year's Christmas.  Many people found it in their heart to reach out, to forgive, and to feel compassion for others that perhaps if it were not for the Season these relationships and opportunity for growth would not have occurred.

Tree drying up? Yep.
 Gifts all opened? Yep.
  Food all eaten? Yep

Christmas over?
            Nope..not by a long shot.

 

 

 

Christmas Letter

I am hesitant to call this a Christmas Letter but as it is the Christmas Season and it is a type of letter that is what I shall call it.


Thus....

My Dear Friends both Virtual and Virtually Forever, as well as Strangers from places around the world that  I only can see through my Stat Counter, I say a Joyous Hello to You All.

This past year has in so many ways been truly  the most absolutely   depressing, devastating, painful, disappointing  and bitterly unrelentingly miserable year. I cannot in my 60 years of living on this Earth ever  recall having such an unending litany of loss and despair as I have had this year.

It seemed that every month there was  either a passing of a friend, news of family strife, an illness to be coped with, some one's loss of husband, wife, or mother, tragic and uncontrollable natural disasters;  along with news that Evil had once again manifested Itself in death and wanton destruction. 

2012-- A very dismal year indeed. An "Annus horribilis" as someone once said.

And now it is Christmas.

 What is there to celebrate?  Why should one literally BUY into all the fuss and faldoral of trees, gifts, food, and glad tidings? What good would it possibly do?  To what end? People playing at "Happy Families". People pretending that they can afford all the money spent on too much food and too many gifts. People deciding that 'because it is Christmas' they will put up with the situation just for now.  People stuffing bad feelings, bad memories, and tolerating bad behavior for the sake of the holidays.

For the past months, I  have truly wallowed in a pity party of hurt pride and petty grudges.  I was angry, terrified, and discouraged at ever being able to be or feel 'right' again.  I dreaded waking up in the morning to face the world, and I dreaded sleeping too much for fear of dreaming beautiful outcomes only to awaken to reality.

Christmas...Bah Humbug would have been the polite terminology used to describe the language of the on-going conversation I had with myself in my mind and to most people in the world who made the mistake of asking how I was doing.  I saw Christmas as something yet again to get through. Another way to remind me that  everyone else is happier, healthier, more deserving,  more blessed,  and more loved, as well as  richer (and thus smarter), kinder, and  ultimtely better off.

As I revelled in my miserably magnificent misery I asked myself:

Is Christmas an arbitrary day to celebrate a birth of Someone that so many turn their back on as soon as the tree is down , the presents are opened and the bills arrive? Yes.

Is it full of sadness, strife, worry , and more often an occasion of loneliness for the poor and forgotten? Yes.

Is it a time of endless reminder that Peace has not yet arrived, Joy is not for All, and still another year has come and gone and Nothing has Really Changed? Yes.
  
What happened then?

 Well in Hoffmanville they say..that this old lady's heart may have grown in some way.

  It perhaps was because of what the doctor did say...

...but I think perhaps it was the Hoar Frost display.

 It was a most lovely and most beauteous  cross country trip  full of God's unique and unmatched artwork in the form of copious amounts of hoar frost on trees, grasses, and fences that I think caused this heart of stone to beat once more.   A  vista of nature's  pristine lace passed by my vision for  over 2 hours from horizon to horizon as we travelled to the city. It is something that I  will only  describe as a Gift and  not a mere 'accident' of Nature. It was  that that  I believe slowly softened  a heart that  had indeed become 'three sizes too small'.  

No...nothing has really changed--

--except for me-- 'something' has.

 For now anyways. 

 There are still issues, still worries, still conflicts, and a certain part of life that isn't quite right...but along with all that there is something 'a little bit more'.  

Maybe Christmas doesn't mean  that 'right now ' all has to be right. After all even He had to wait 30+ years to show us why He was here.

Maybe it just means that we only have to keep Him on our horizon.
 The beauty of the frost filled landscape  on  a Winter's Day was my own reminder that Much is well and Much will be made well again-- in some way; perhaps, and more probably, with as much mystery and beauty as are the crystals of hoar frost layered with care and marked precision by the hand of a Master over and over again on each minute  needle of a whole and complete 20' Pine tree.

 I hope  all your lives will be touched by the same Creator  of the beauty  displayed before me that cold northern winter's day, not just during the Christmas Season but throughout the coming year. 


Best Wishes for Joy, Peace, and Comfort for 2013.

p.

   Hoar Frost Crystals

... surprisingly not unlike 'thorns'.

P.S.

The only Guest needed for Christmas has already arrived.
The only Gift needed to be purchased has already been given.

What in the World?

End of the world eh?

I was just thinking of all the ramifications of that.

 No more world, eh?

 Where are we going to put everything?


 No more saying to the young "Go and See the World."


What will Love do  exactly if there is no World for it to turn?


What will we say instead of " What in the World? 

--"What in the vacuous space of minutia matter in random orbits around the sun?"...Just doesn't have that  same catchiness to it."


Kind of sad to think that there will be no more "World on a String" lifestyle.

Maybe the World will truly now simply be an 'Oyster'.

I bet Globes will be on sale on Saturday!

If the World is round, how can there be an End?

*********

I'm all bathed..clean clothes from the skin out...I might be going on a big trip--or not.

..Mom always said to wear clean underwear just in case.



Oh Where Oh Where will our Little World Go?
Oh Where Oh Where will It Be??
Will we be Wandering?
Will we be Wet? Or will We be Flying around Free?

Oh Where Or What will
You Be?

 

Tinkle, tinkle.

There are a 1000 stories to be told in the Memory Called Christmas...and this is only one.

I had two younger siblings...10 months apart...a brother and a sister.  They were about 1 year old and almost 2 1/2 years  old--crawling--barely walking.  The  decorated  3' tree was set UP UP UP high on the lace covered sewing machine stand in the living room.   Presents wrapped, ribboned and labelled were under the tree.

They were left alone for not even 15 minutes in the living room while the rest of the family were busy preparing supper in the kitchen.  My mom wandered down the hall to see what was up when she heard something tinkle, and let out a gasp and a scream as she scooped up the two babies and shooed the rest of the family back down the hallway.  

 The sewing machine was no longer covered, the tree was on the floor, and the  blinking of the Christmas lights highlighted the shine of  of the ribbons and sparkly paper strewed around the room. Every present had been opened , inspected, licked, shook and finally ignored and ultimately spread around the living room.  Socks, jewellery, toys, games, baby dolls, puzzles -- all were exposed to the pre Christmas air. 

The general family population was banned from the living room for the remainder of the evening as Mom spent the time rewrapping and relabelling.

I think THAT was the year that I received my first bottle  of Evening in Paris Perfume and my 12 year old sister received a volume of  the Bobbsey Twin Books that interested her not in the least.

I can smell it just seeing the bottle.



I do not recall what we had for supper that night.

The 1st Christmas Pageant.

My earliest recollection of a Christmas Concert is the Christmas when I was five and not yet attending school.  It was held in a country school 2 + miles away from our farm.  I distinctly remember sitting on the front bench in front of the stage--green heavy curtains decorated with Christmas stickers just inches away from my nose.  I also remember the hiss of the gas lanterns hanging from the ceiling.  The one room school was packed-- Mom and Dad, Grandpa and Grandma, and everyone else who lived in the community. Most there had children performing, but some, like the family of 10 bachelors and their mother who often boarded the teacher, were no doubt in attendance. 

I know I was first introduced to Santa Claus that night thinking that, for a fact, he sure reminded me of my Grandpa, but being not that well versed as exactly who Santa actually was I thought nothing of it at the time. That  is kind of cool that Grandpa was my 1st Santa. He would like to know that I think. ( I think he probably does)


I do know one of the 'littler' kids jumped off the front bench and ran and hid under their mother's chair at the sight of him. 

It would be about the last week of November I suppose, when the teacher would give us seat work, and then call us up one by one and designate our  eagerly longed for parts for the Concert. Everyone was given opportunities to perform--from Grade One to Grade Nine. Poems, recitations, drills , songs, solos, play parts, and of course, the Pageant roles. Lines for memorization would be written out by hand in plain print by the big kids--the Grade 8's and 9's-- and handed out to each 'star' to take home to practice.

Toward the second week of December the classroom would be changed into a concert hall!  Desks would be shoved aside and the stage would  be erected by busy fathers who had taken time off from the farm to set the board and plywood platform against one side of the classroom. The wire for the curtains were strung and the piano moved to the correct position.  Traditional classes were forgotten but education still reigned as lines were learned, scenes prepared, and music practiced.  The creative energy of these productions would out do any digitally enhanced, multimillion dollar Broadway production of today.
 

I don't know why exactly, nor do I know how, but by the beginning of the last week of practice I would invariably know Everyone's lines, poems, and recitations. I must be an aural learner because I could do this just by listening.The teacher would often have me be the unofficial prompter.

I remember having to  run off the stage during a play yelling, "But I don't want to go to bed." There was a time when  a boy and myself had to sit on the stage and recite a story about the stars. We acted out Frosty the Snow Man, Good King Wenscelas. We  even did Hula Hooping and Square Dancing. Toinettes were played and acrobatics performed. I once presented a poem about teaching a calf to drink out of a bucket with nothing but a an empty pail for a prop.

The concert that I think stood out for me as well as many others in our  prairie school, which was performed by predominately children of people from Northern European stock, was the year we presented an excerpt from Uncle Tom's Cabin. I played Topsey.

Costuming would be the primary concern. I have no idea who decided to put 'whatever it was' that made my face look black but put it on I did. I was about 8 years old at the time and the only one of the cast who required the blacking.   I do not know exactly how the story went but one of my lines was , " I weren't born. I just grewed."  I then  broke out in song singing Mamma's Little Children Love Shorten' Bread  unaccompanied. For the finale I did  forward somersaults across the stage showing aptly fitted  over sized white flannel underwear contrasting against my black stocking covered legs.  The presentation was a great hit. There was lots of appropriate laughter throughout followed by a great round of applause.

I remember going off the stage and looking for the towels and  cleanser that I was to use to get the 'black stuff' off my face.  I frantically searched through costumes as I could hear that soon my next on stage performance would be expected--that as a Scottish Highland Dancer.

Now I know that Highland Dancing is not to illicit the  peals of laughter as what it received that historical Christmas Concert night.  I am sure underneath that layer of black 'whatever it was'  my face was glowing red. No doubt that warmth probably contributed to its being even more difficult to remove when the time came.

The story doesn't end there. 

There was still the Pageant to be performed.

 There were the shepherds' costumes, the kings' garb, and Mary and Joseph's outfits all  to be  organized. There wasn't a towel or a housecoat left at  anyone's home  in a five mile radius. The only costumes that were actually made were the Angels', complete with wings , tinsel, and white crepe paper dresses. 

 As  is  often the case, the Pageant was  presented  with the use of  a  narrator who read the Story as the actors quietly took their places on stage,  with various Carols  being sung between presentations. 

As I, being an Angel, stepped onto the stage singing Joy to the World there was once again a soft titter of giggles passing over the crowd . After a moment or two, however,  there was a  hush and the Story continued with as much solemnity as it deserved.   Away In A Manger got just an extra  bit of a high note that night as
the  designated Angel from Afar looked lovingly over to the cradle where the Babe was supposedly lying, and saw instead the lost jar of  'whatever it was' one was to use to get the black off angels' faces, if required.

That year's concert was the talk of the countryside well into the New Year. 

I believe it was probably the first 'interracial'  Pageant on the Prairies-- if not North America.

 I am proud to have been a part of it-- intentionally or not.

 

If you click on the program it will enlarge and you will be able to read it more readily...and even see MY name.

This is the Toy Soldier Play that was mentioned in the program.  Guess who the one sitting down is with her mouth open?...blah, blah, blah. ( I can name all the cast here if any one wants to know or want a copy of this.)

Before one projects any type of Sociological slur on this incident, it must be remembered the time in History (50+ years ago in rural Canada) where this was presented. This was a time of limited contact with ANY other race, limited access to cultural differences, with solidly ingrained opinions thought of as truth due to ignorance and genuine lack of understanding , which were not necessarily based on hate, fear or conscious malice.

People often just believe what they have learned to believe until they learn to believe differently 
 

This ,These, and THAT!

This

Becomes

These

These

Become

This

This

Becomes

This

And

Miraculously

THAT

Becomes

This

The Circle Completed

(I tried :/)









What a Deal!--for Some.

I find it strange that a small town in Saskatchewan would publish a coupon book that gives % discounts on purchases in various places of businesses in that town, but ONLY give it to the people who live in the town and not to the outlying commercial catch basin. 

Some of these same businesses do, however, like to provide advertisement flyers in my 'rural' mailbox encouraging me to purchase from them. I also received a notification that I could go to an Internet site and vote for a new addition to the local town swimming pool.

I seems to me that if I am good enough to be persuaded to vote and to buy in my local small town , then I should also qualify to receive the % discount coupon book that the residents of the town qualify for.

  I understand that there is a discount coupon for an upcoming concert to raise money for the local theatre . I wonder how well the theatre will fare if only the people who are chosen to receive the discount attend? 

As I am a member of the Co-Op and the Co-Op was one of the coupon suppliers, it bugs me not a little that anyone in town could benefit from the coupon and not necessarily be a member.

Do these merchants forget exactly where their bread and butter comes from?  Do they actually think that their monthly profit (if they do indeed have one) comes solely from the pockets of the townspeople in this little town in rural Canada?  Do they forget  about the countless numbers of vehicles that  are driven into town everyday from the countryside in order for their  operators to purchase groceries, fuel, hardware necessities, pharmaceuticals, and dry goods?  Do these merchants think for one minute that without these residents from the outlying regions being a part of the  local volunteer backbone, that the town would be able to operate the recreational facilities , service clubs, religious organizations, and cultural events with just the people who live within Town limits?

Yes, Town residents do pay taxes for the upkeep of Town infrastructure, but the merchants of this little town should remember that taxes are also paid by landowners and residents who live in the rural area and that these monies also contribute to the upkeep of roads, schools, medical facilities, as well as  police and emergency services which are used and enjoyed by all in the district.

Could not having a genuine and simple GOOD SALE on goods and services to all who chose to venture to Town to purchase  the oft touted "Locally" been a better idea?

Nothing like a Good Sale to warm a customer's heart and create a lasting memory and a tendency to buy again.

Nothing like a Snub to promote a feeling of not being welcome, not belonging, and not counting that will make a customer turn the opposite direction when they get to the highway and go to the next town where their purchase choices are greater and their business is appreciated.  Often, they can even purchase Online and not ever leave their yard except to pick up the mail.

You can't sell anything to anyone if your store is empty of customers--with or without coupons. The way this small town orchestrated their attempt at marketing is a sure way of having lots of items on the shelves, few people in the aisles, and little cash in the til.

Simply :  WHAT WERE YOU THINKING??