A Short Story Made Long

That dadblasted Jinksy just had to post about her memory of Christmas Trees, and that got me into exploring my own memories. In the exhumation process, I thought, "I'll bet we have old pictures that I could post." That, my friends, caused me a few hours work: searching, scanning and fixing (a little) old photos. So, rather than a ten minute piece of prose, it became a project of several hours duration. It's okay, though, as I, bit by tiny bit, endeavour to add old photos to my what I call my heritage folder.

I suspect the following picture dates to 1956, but it is possible that I could be a year out on either side. Most of the tree is visible along with my maternal grandfather and my uncle (his son) in the frame. Grampa is holding the hockey stick that I must have received earlier that Christmas Day as I sit cross-legged on the floor. I had forgotten all about that print hanging on the wall. I liked it, but I don't think it came with us when we moved to Ontario in 1962.


The next picture is obviously from the same Christmas, but includes my father. The tree, looks a little sparse and uneven, so you'd think it must be real, and you'd be correct. I doubt that artificial trees existed in 1956, and if so, they'd probably have been a lot more expensive than a real tree. In fact, I don't recall my parents ever using an artificial tree until they toned Christmas down a little later in life and decided that a little, artificial one would do just fine. That decision took place after another big move. Oddly enough, Cuppa and I decided that a little tree would suit us just fine after our big move a few years ago.




In the photo (still the one above), the construction set that I remember has been erected to my right (your left). I had recently described it to Cuppa, and, voila, there it is. In the photo below, it is 1958, and I am older. I think I was quite taken with the my wave, but somebody should have told me that it didn't suit me so well: too much forehead there. Maybe I was channeling Elvis.


However, I'm supposed to be talking about Christmas Trees, and I'm being diverted by other things that I am seeing in the photos So, let's talk about trees. Aside from the fact that they were real, which I have already mentioned, I have one specific memory of actually getting a tree and bringing it home. It's just an ordinary memory, nothing special, except to me for some reason.

It was in the evening, possibly when I was ten, the age of the above photo. I remember walking a few blocks with Dad to a corner lot one evening. I presume it was after supper because he'd have been pretty ready for a meal after walking home after a full day of being on his feet at work. Maybe I remember because the guy who sold us the tree had a funny voice. I think he'd had an operation and been given some sort of mechanical device to help him speak. My father was very polite and gave no indication of anything unusual, but either he or I mentioned it on the walk home.

I don't remember that walk home, but I do know that we took the tree up the backstairs to our second-story flat. We would have left the tree outside to settle for a few days before bringing inside to decorate. The next photo is the 1960 tree with my Dad and Uncle Charlie ...





... and here's my best friend, Nelson, by the same tree. (Nelson and I reconnected ten years ago. I wonder if her still reads this blog? He did for a long time but never chose to comment.)



Finally, here's one with of mother decorating the 1961 tree, the last tree before moving from Montreal in 1962.



At some point in time, I became the main decorator. At least I was for one year. In the year that I am remembering, I was an older teenager and was put in charge of decorating the tree one Saturday when both my parents were at work. I had mentioned this to a girl friend (but not girlfriend) the previous day, and she offered to help. This was not to be permitted, however, because it was thought that nature might take its course with no adult to chaperon. Given the times, it was probably the correct decision but most likely unnecessary as I was not really attracted to this girl, and I never had any indication that she was attracted to me. However, I guess you never know.

Finally (PTL, eh?), to wrap up the narrative, Cuppa and I soon started to use artificial trees after we were married. Since, we always drove back home for Christmas, it was seemed only sensible thing to put up an artificial tree early in the month and also not have to worry about watering it while we were away.

I think I have a way of making a short story long — but only when I write, not when I speak.

Old Dogs, New Tricks

One of the things that I wanted to do when I retired was to take a crack at Crossword Puzzles. I did make a brief, abortive stab but found the exercise too frustrating. When Sudokus came along, I did a lot better, which caused me to think that people would naturally tend toward one type of puzzle more than the other. My feeling was that some people are logical problem solvers (ie Sudoku), while others tend to have more associative brains (ie Crosswords).

While I still feel that way, I recently decided to give crosswords another whirl after seeing how D2 attacked them when we were visiting in Vancouver. Now, D3 is the real puzzle person in the family, but while she was doing something else, D2 picked up a puzzle, and Cuppa and I tried to help. What I saw D2 doing was to quickly move on to another clue when we were stuck. She didn't spend a lot of time labouring over one clue. We either got it or moved on.

I thought, "Hmmm, maybe that's the secret. Maybe I'll try again." So, I did try it, and it went a lot better. Then, I decided to draw Cuppa into the scheme and asked for her help. It turns out that she helped a lot, for she is quicker to find the associative leaps that are troublesome for my linear and logical brain. Meanwhile, I seem to be able to contribute from the store of trivia that is somehow locked within my cranium. I guess that I'm saying that between the two of us, we manage to put together one brain that can do these dastardly puzzles.

This is often our new bedtime ritual. We do a puzzle; she goes to sleep, and I come here to post about it. Here's tonight's solution.



We've been doing puzzles from the newspaper, but we've recently discontinued our subscription, so we'll have to look for a decent book at the bookstore. I picked up a Dell puzzle book at the grocery store the other day, but they seem too easy. Can you beat that? After a few weeks of trying crosswords, we're getting picky.

We'd still drive D3 nuts though. As an expert, she never cheats. Neither do we exactly, but after having gone wrong a few times in the past, we do like to confirm our answers when in doubt. Most of the time, I am able to flip to the solution and focus on the right spot without seeing the surrounding answers, so it works pretty well for us novices. And we're already checking less than we were.

I guess it is possible for old dogs to learn new tricks ... even if they do bend the strict rules just a tad. At least we're exercising our brains, which is rather the point.

On Repeat, In a Big Way

Does the above picture look familiar to you? The hobo guy on The Polar Express is sure becoming familiar to me, for I'm seeing a lot of him. And Shrek the Halls too. The benefit of the latter is that it's relatively short. The benefit of the former is that there are a few parts that cause Nikki Dee to become a trifle apprehensive, so I get a number of lap requests. Cuddling on my lap, however, does sometimes lead to odd positions.



Yes indeed, SILly couldn't help himself and brought home a huge HDTV — "for the family," don't you know. I must say that with the very fine surround sound that he already had set up, it makes for quite a fine viewing experience, and Nikki Dee now frequently asks for "Movie?" She leads me by the hand, and we head downstairs to the rec room where I am fortunate enough to view Shrek or Polar Express one more time.



Once those films are put away until next year (as I trust they will be in a few weeks), I wonder what the next repetitive attractions will be. Lion King, perhaps?



One hardly needs to go see movies on the Big Screen anymore because everyone (except Cuppa and me) has one in their own house — where the popcorn is cheaper. Still, it's not like a date, so I'm sure we'll still be heading to the local cinema for our usual dose of three of four movies per year.

The Passing Thoughts of a Sweaty Sicky

Call this post a stream of consciousness — of sort anyway. Or call it a lousy post if you insist.

1. Last weekend it was green. This weekend, it is white. Very white. I like white. Some don't.


2. Whatever this virus is, Cuppa and I are both dragging. As I sit here typing, I am almost in a puddle although the indoor temperature is less than 19°C/66°F. That should not cause one to boil. At the same temperature the other night, my teeth were chattering with chill whenever I had to get up.


3. My throat has been very sore, and my left ear has been plugged for a week. Should I be worried? Should I go to the doctor who will say, "There's nothing we can do. Just wait it out."?


4. I had a few hours of sleep last night, which is much better than none, but I'd really be grateful for just a little more.


5. Cuppa and I dragged ourselves out to two stores yesterday. The intent was to do some Christmas shopping. We gave up in no time flat and came home empty handed.


6. We didn't drag ourselves to the store today but did manage to go and give the grands a hug.


7. Speaking of hugs, that's all we may be giving out for Christmas at this rate. Do they count?


8. I finally wrote my Christmas letter and addressed Christmas cards. I guess I actually addressed the envelopes.


9. I did not make my own Christmas card this year. I seemed to stop that practice when I started doing Christmas letters.


10. I didn't write Christmas letters for a long time because I didn't want to write one of those self-congratulatory, braggadocios, nausea-inducing letters. I hope I am succeeding.


11. For about a week I forgot that I had been reading Dan Brown's latest, The Lost Symbol, and I am not keen to resume. Make of that what you will.


12. On the other hand I did just finish reading How Jesus Became Christian, by Barrie Wilson. Recommended for really open-minded searchers but not for most Christians who are happy in their beliefs. (That's not a slag if that's what it sounds like: just a frank statement.)


13. My inlaws are heading to South Korea and China for three weeks. In my present state of health, I am happy not to be them right now.


14. I would not be terribly keen to visit those places — unless someone were to top up my bank account with sufficient funds to cover business class flights among a few other comforts.


15. They are going to visit their grandchild in Korea. I feel for them having Jinu so far away. I am so blessed to have my own grands so near.


16. Grandparents I know will be snowbirding in Florida this winter, and they have a grandkid about the same age as Zach. We left Nikki Dee for three weeks when she was little. That was more than long enough. I'd rather hug my grand and endure winter than sit on a beach or play golf.


17. I received a Christmas card from Donna, a Texan blogger. I appreciate it as I have a few others over the years. I have sent out a few in the past, but I decided not to send to bloggers this year. Please don't feel hurt.


18. AC is so old that he remembers his mother putting two cents postage on Christmas cards: four cents if she sealed it. I don't know what it costs to send a card now. I think it's fifty-one cents.


19. AC remembers stopping Cuppa in her tracks when they were first married by predicting that bread would soon cost more than a dollar a loaf. Oh for dollar-a-loaf bread nowadays.


20. I just lifted up my arm. With these sweats that I've been experiencing, I really shoulda showered today. Fortunately, Cuppa's nose is too stuffed to notice.


21. We will be having a sleepover at the kids' place tomorrow night for babysitting purposes. They will be partying late, so we'll crash there rather than stay up late — real late.


22. I shovelled three or four times this week, but only one time might be considered heavy. Good Neighbour must also have come by with the snow blower once.


23. It's the heavy stuff that the tractors dump at the end of the driveway that is the most difficult to manage.


24. Some bloggers mentioned that my blog was loading slowly all of a sudden, so I did archive all music except the last one for now. I hope that helps. I assume that these folk were on dialup.


25. I'm getting a bit woozy, and my heat is dissipating somewhat, so I'm going to head to bed.


26. Actually I'll be kicking the cat off the Lazy Boy and starting the night off there. At some point, I will move to the guest bed. If Cuppa and I sleep together right now we'll keep each other awake with our coughing.


27. I'm so glad I have now mentioned the coughing system, which I had neglected to mention. Until I mentioned it. Just now.


28. I'm really going to stop now.

A Christmas Memory

Thinking about Christmas music, as I have been, recently, this memory surfaced. I retrieved this photo from my boyhood album and am endeavouring to piece together the story from my fragmentary memory as best I can.



One Sunday morning in Novemeber of 1963, Sunday School teacher, Norm Butler, informed his class of truculent and recalcitrant sixteen year-old boys that the group was to present a piece in the Young Peoples Christmas program. He passed around a passage, an audition of sorts, for us all to read, and I flubbed my reading rather badly. Notwithstanding, he informed the class that he was choosing me to perform the reading. He said that I had been nervous during the audition but that I had a good speaking voice.

Now I wonder whether I wasn't, in point of fact, the least awful choice out of a group of miserable teenage boys. It was a tough group that, apparently later worked to get Norm tossed as our teacher. I didn't know about it at the time, but we soon had a new teacher, and I found out later that some sort of rebellion had transpired. Poor Norm; he was a good man trying his best with a bad group; almost anybody would have has a tough time with that group.

I don't know why but I never thought to renege from the task that I had been given. I wasn't exactly a good church boy at that time, but I went along with it and performed my reading about Silent Night and how that carol came in to being. It was Norm who took that photo of young AC rehearsing the reading.

I read my piece, went home and thought no more of it, but come the next Sunday received some praise from Norm who said the he and others of the audience thought that my reading was the highlight of the evening. While I still feel a little warm over that bit of praise, I am also realistic enough to realize that being the highlight of what was, doubtless, a very amateurish evening of poor performances was not a exactly a monumental accomplishment.

Wow! I just remembered something that I had long forgotten about that night. My class friend, Al Bowen, played Silent Night on his trombone after my reading. He was the other, not too-evil-boy in that class. Al went on to become a well known, devout pastor in Toronto, while I went on to obscurity and agnosticism. How's that for diverging paths?

There are several versions of how Silent Night came into being, but I think I can remember almost verbatim one line from my two-page reading. Apparently, on Christmas Eve, "the organist of the church, Franz Gruber, made an alarming discovery. The organ would not play." My piece went on to say that the Silent Night was composed as a song that could easily be sung sans organ accompaniment. While those exact facts are certainly in dispute, at least the broad strokes are more or less correct. Following is some of what Wikipedia has to say.

On December 24, 1818 Joseph Mohr journeyed to the home of musician-schoolteacher Franz Gruber who lived in an apartment over the schoolhouse in nearby Arnsdorf. He showed his friend the poem and asked him to add a melody and guitar accompaniment so that it could be sung at Midnight Mass. His reason for wanting the new carol is unknown. Some speculate that the organ would not work; others feel that the assistant pastor, who dearly loved guitar music, merely wanted a new carol for Christmas.

Later that evening, as the two men, backed by the choir, stood in front of the main altar in St. Nicholas Church and sang "Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht!" for the first time, they could hardly imagine the impact their composition would have on the world.

Karl Mauracher, a master organ builder and repairman from the Ziller Valley, traveled to Oberndorf to work on the organ, several times in subsequent years. While doing his work in St. Nicholas, he obtained a copy of the composition and took it home with him. Thus, the simple carol, began its journey around the world as a "Tyrolean Folk Song."

See Wikipedia for the full story.

What pleases me most about this memory is that a young AC was there in a small way for poor, beleaguered Norm Butler that night. The adult me, who became a teacher, feels bad for whatever he endured as a teacher of that class.

I Hope You Like It

Thank goodness that winter has arrived (with a bang) because I was getting worried that Santa wouldn't be able land his sleigh. Now that I have completed my first snow-shovelling of the season, I feel like playing another Christmas song. How about Boney M doing Zion's Daughter?

I think it was two Christmases ago that I saw their CD in a local pharmacy, and I knew that I had to take it home. We had had the record a long time ago, and we played it so much that I grew weary of it. However, after a long hiatus, I found that I was missing their style of Christmas music, so I was delighted to bring Boney M back into our home.

They are Nikki Dee's favourite group too. It's this music that she is recently insisting upon as soon as she climbs into our car. In her case it's just Jingle Bells, but here I am offering Zion's Daughter. While I'm glad to have all of the traditional selections and styles of Christmas music, at this time in my life, I really like to find tunes that are different and unique, and this song by Boney M is just that for me. I have never heard this song anywhere else and have never heard their sound replicated in Christmas music.

Update: music archived for another year.


Considering the style of music, I am shocked to discover that the original members of the group were all West German and find it even weirder to learn that the name came from an Australian detective show called Boney. There is much more information on Wikipedia.

A Magical Snowy Christmas

We now have a wee bit of snow on the ground with, perhaps, a dumper coming tomorrow morning. It's arriving a little late this year — late for this area at least. This will be our fifth winter here in Eastern Ontario, and in other years we've had snow by now: sometimes quite a lot. I don't mind the snow, but I also don't mind that it has taken its sweet time getting here this year as it might feel shorter on the back end when it tends to overstays its welcome.

Snow at this time of year takes me back to a Magical Snowy Christmas five years ago. At that time, we still lived in Sarnia at the southwestern edge of the province, about a seven hour+ drive to Ottawa. It was about a week later than it is now when we drove partway to Eastern Ontario before stopping at the cottage. We intended to stay there for a week or so and enjoy a winter holiday before continuing the journey. Sarnia is almost as far south as you can go in Canada, and it isn't terribly cold or snowy (in Canadian terms understand), so we looked forward to enjoying a more wintry time at the cottage. We were not to be disappointed.



Once we were within about an hour of the cottage we began to notice some accumulation, which seemed to grow deeper and deeper the closer we came to our destination. The cottage region had received a significant snowfall over the previous night, and let me assure you that freshly fallen snow in the woods is, indeed, magically delightful. So, it was upon recalling that winter, I perused my archives, found the above photo of Cuppa in the snowy woods a few days ago and set it as the background wallpaper on my computer. Since I still can't stop thinking about it, I thought I'd share it with you too.

We had a lot of fun that week, even when Cuppa lost her snowshoe and got stuck in the drift along the riverbank. She required assistance, but I took enough time to get this photo before helping my lady in distress.



It was a memorable winter retreat that year, which we've never managed to duplicate. Perhaps, I will post some further recollections in the coming days.