THE DAYS OF WELCOMING HANDSHAKES, WARM KINDRED SPIRITS, AND "WE'RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER….SO LET'S GET ALONG"
TAKING THE LESSONS OF HISTORY OUT OF THE BOOK
FRED SCHULZ AND I ARE CHRISTMAS-SEASON STORY-SPINNERS. IF YOU LISTEN CAREFULLY, IN OUR COMPANY, YOU MIGHT EVEN BE ABLE TO DETECT THE FAINT HUM OF OUR SPINNING THOUGHTS, LIKE THE REELS OF AN OLD MOVIE PROJECTOR, WITH THE TELL-TALE, FARAWAY CLATTER, OF A LIONEL TRAIN, ELECTRICALLY SHUTTLED AROUND THE TRACKS……OR THE MILES-IN-THE-DISTANCE HORN, OF THE SNOWBOUND NORTHLANDER, HEADING TO GRAVENHURST. EVERY CHRISTMAS SEASON, WE PULL AWAY THE COBWEBS, AND DUST BUNNIES THAT HAVE ENTANGLED THE CUT FIBERS OF THE FAMILY QUILTS, WE REFUSE TO GIVE UP ON…..AS THREADBARE AS THEY ARE. TIRELESS REVELERS OF CHRISTMASES PAST. IT'S LIKE A SCENE FROM AN OLD MOVIE. WHEN WE GET TOGETHER, THE STORIES TOLD, OVER HOT CIDER, FALL AWAY LIKE THE CALENDAR PAGES, BLOWING IN THE WINDS OF HISTORY. SHOWING HOW TIME HAS PASSED BY WITH ONLY A WHISPER OF NOTICE.
HOW REMARKABLY VINTAGE WE REALLY ARE, AND HOW MUSTY AND DUSTY THESE REMINISCENCES, OF ALL THE CHRISTMASES WE HAVE ENJOYED IN THE PAST. FRED TALKS ABOUT THE DAYS WHEN HIS FAMILY RAN THE KILWORTHY GENERAL STORE, AND HOW MUCH HE USED TO ENJOY ALL THE CHRISTMAS ADORNMENTS, HE WAS ALLOWED TO SET OUT, INCLUDING THE ELECTRIC TRAIN AND THE ENCHANTED CHRISTMAS TREE, RISING WITH ILLUMINATION, ABOVE THE STORE HORIZON…… AS IF IT WAS THE MOST IMPORTANT HARBINGER OF SEASONAL FARE. WHEN FRED DESCRIBES THE SCENE, HE DOES IT SO PRECISELY, THAT AN ARTIST COULD PAINT A PICTURE OF THE RUSTIC, FULL COUNTRY STORE, IN A BUSTLING, CHARMING HAMLET, NESTLED IN THE MEADOWLAND OF SOUTH MUSKOKA. I CAN SMELL THE GROUND COFFEE. THE TEA. THE BREAD DELIVERED THAT MORNING. WHAT HEAVEN IS THIS?
I SPENT MOST OF MY YOUNG LIFE, IN BRACEBRIDGE, BUT MY FAMILY DIDN'T OWN A STORE. I DID HOWEVER, VISIT EVERY BUSINESS IN TOWN, ESPECIALLY MUSKOKA TRADING, WHERE I MONITORED THEIR WHEEL OF CHEESE, STARTING IN NOVEMBER. I HAVE A THING ABOUT GOOD CHEESE, AND THEIR'S WAS FANTASTIC. IF I HUNG AROUND LONG ENOUGH, A CLERK WOULD CUT A SMALL SLICE FOR ME, AND IT WAS A MOST GENEROUS CHRISTMAS SEASON TREAT. I GUESS I APPEARED TO BE AN URCHIN, REQUIRING SUSTENANCE. MY MOTHER FOUND OUT THAT I WAS BEING A NUISANCE, AND HAULED ME OUT SEVERAL TIMES BY ONE OF TWO EAR LOBES. I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY KIDS ASKED SANTA FOR CHEESE, BUT I WAS ONE OF THEM. SO I'D EAGERLY VOLUNTEER TO GO DOWN TO MUSKOKA TRADING, JUST BELOW MANITOBA STREET, TO GET A SMALL NUMBER OF GROCERIES, AND I'D SNEAK A PEEK AT THE CHEESE WHEELS…..TWO OR THREE ON THE GO……MAKING SURE THERE WAS ENOUGH LEFT FOR MY MOTHER TO BUY A THICK WEDGE……JUST IN CASE SANTA COULDN'T MAKE IT DURING STORE HOURS.
I CAN'T IMAGINE THERE ARE TOO MANY OF US LEFT, WHO HAVE CHRISTMAS SEASON DREAMS ABOUT DECORATING A GENERAL STORE, OR FEELING THAT A COMMERCIAL OUTLET COULD ACTUALLY BE MAGICAL…..THIS TIME OF THE YEAR. FRED AND I FIND THESE OLDTIME COMMERCIAL STORIES RATHER ENDEARING, BECAUSE IT WAS PART OF OUR GROWING-UP EXPERIENCE. TRUTH BE KNOWN, WE BOTH STILL LOVE SHOPPING, ESPECIALLY AT THIS TIME OF THE YEAR, BECAUSE OF WHAT WE SEE, AND SENSE, THAT OTHERS DON'T…..OR CAN'T. I DON'T THINK THAT MAKES US PARTICULARLY SPECIAL, BUT THESE, CONVERSATIONS WE ENJOY, WOULDN'T FLY WITH A LOT OF OTHER FOLKS, GATHERED AROUND THE CRACKING HEARTH. FRED KNOWS WHAT I MEAN, AND I KNOW WHAT HE'S REMINISCING ABOUT…….AND IN THE BACKGROUND OF BOTH CHRISTMAS BIOGRAPHIES, ARE THE SOUNDS OF TRAIN HORNS AND THE CLICKETY-CLACK OF THE ENGINE AND CARS COMING ALONG THE TRACKS. EVERY TRAIN THIS TIME OF THE YEAR, HELD A LITTLE EXTRA MAGIC TO THE WISHFUL, DREAMING VOYEUR, WATCHING THEM PASS US BY…..AND THINKING ABOUT ALL THE PLACES IT HAS VISITED…..ALL THE AMAZING SNOWY WOODLANDS, MEADOWS AND HILLSIDES, IT HAD RUMBLED THROUGH IN THE WINTER MOONLIGHT. FRED REMEMBERS THEM FROM KILWORTHY. I RECALL THEM FROM THE LOADING PLATFORM AT THE FORMER BRACEBRIDGE TRAIN STATION, WHERE I SPENT A LOT OF DAYS AND NIGHTS, DREAMING OF ONE DAY…..RIDING THE RAILS. BY THE WAY…..FRED AND I ARE BOTH FANS OF THE MOVIE "POLAR EXPRESS," THE ANIMATED CHRISTMAS SHOW, WITH TOM HANKS AS CONDUCTOR. WE TALKED ABOUT IT LAST YEAR, AND WELL, CONCEDED, THAT IF WE HAD A CHANCE, WE WOULD DEFINITELY JUMP ABOARD THAT TRAIN IF IT ARRIVED AT OUR DOORSTEPS…..ON A PARTICULAR CHRISTMAS EVE.
FRED AND I ARE STRANGE ANTIQUARIANS, WHO MIGHT, IF OFFERED A CHANCE, "TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN"……WELL, ….WE WOULD MOST LIKELY, BUT WITH THANKS ANYWAY, DECLINE, AS IS OUR EPIC CONTRADICTION. WE ARE, YOU SEE, COMFORTABLE WITH THE ETCHINGS OF TIME. WE ARE PLEASED TO RECOLLECT THOSE PLEASANT MOMENTS OF FAMILY TIMES, AND SUMPTUOUS FAMILY DINNERS, BULGING WITH GOOD CHEER, AND MEANINGFUL FESTIVITY. SCENES, AS IF FROM AN OLD BLACK AND WHITE MOVIE, PLAY OVER AND OVER IN OUR THOUGHTS, THIS TIME OF YEAR, BUT WE CAN'T GO BACK. WE WOULDN'T WISH TO RETURN, JUST IN CASE WE MIGHT ALTER SOME IMPORTANT HISTORICAL REALITY, THAT WOULD CHANGE THE FUTURE…….AND WE ARE SATISFIED WITH THE WAY THINGS HAVE TURNED OUT. WE BOTH WILL, ON OCCASION, MUTTER UNDER OUR BREATH, ABOUT, "I'D REALLY LIKE TO SEE THAT AGAIN," OR "I MISS SEEING THEM AT CHRISTMAS," AND EVEN, "I'D LIKE TO WALK THROUGH THAT STORE DOOR JUST ONE MORE TIME." THEN WE ARE OFFERED ANOTHER RE-FILL OF MULLED CIDER, AND THE STEAM MIGHT REMIND US, INDIVIDUALLY, OF THE GHOST OF CHRISTMASES PAST……SET FREE FROM OUR REMINISCES ONCE MORE.
REMEMBERING CHRISTMASES PAST, BRINGS HISTORY BACK TO LIFE
I AM OFTEN DISAPPOINTED AT CHRISTMAS, TRUTH BE TOLD. I LOVE MY FAMILY DEARLY, AND ENJOY ALL THE CELEBRATIONS WE MUSTER HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW…..AND ALL THE SPIRITED FRIENDSHIPS WE RENEW AT CASUAL GET-TOGETHERS IN OUR HOMETOWN. THERE ARE THINGS ABOUT THE MODERN WORLD I DON'T UNDERSTAND…..AND I KNOW THAT I WILL NEVER TRULY APPRECIATE THE NEW TRADITIONS…….THAT SEEM TO REVOLVE AROUND ELECTRONICS AND HAND HELD DEVICES THAT HAVE REMOVED US ALL FROM THE DAYS OF SWITCHBOARDS, "SARAH" ON DUTY, WALL PHONES, TABLE PHONES AND CONVENTIONAL COMMUNICATION. EVEN PERSON TO PERSON CONTACT SEEMS EVASIVE THESE DAYS, AS SO MUCH HAPPENS ON LITTLE HAND-HELD DEVICES WITH ILLUMINATION, AND STRANGE RING TONES THAT ARE MORE MUSICAL TODAY, THAN A MODEST, SIMPLE, RING AND DING-DING. I SEE SO MUCH HUSTLE AND BUSTLE, BUT I DON'T SEE THE GENERAL STORE DAWDLING; THE CASUAL STREET CORNER MEETINGS, AND SILHOUETTED CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN OLD FRIENDS IN THE HALO OF LAMPLIGHT AND SNOW FALL. THOSE CHRISTMAS CARD IMAGES ARE JUST TIRED OLD NOSTALGIA. EVERYBODY IS IN A RUSH. EVERYBODY NEEDS TO MAKE A BUCK. JUST TO SPEND IT AGAIN IN A FRACTION OF A SECOND. LET THE TRANSACTIONS COMMENCE, WHERE JINGLE BELLS USED TO RING. NO ONE HAS TIME ANYMORE. THERE ARE PLACES TO BE. MILES TO TRAVEL. SUPPERS TO BUY, EAT ON THE FLY, AND HOCKEY PRACTICES TO FIT IN, DANCERS TO DELIVER. WHO HAS TIME TO REMINISCE ABOUT CHRISTMASES PAST. THERE WON'T BE A CHRISTMAS PRESENT (TENSE), UNLESS ALL THE TIME IS BUDGETED, EVEN THE BATHROOM BREAKS. I FIND IT SAD, FRANKLY, AND FEEL FORTUNATE TO HAVE MY THREAD-BARE STORIES……TO SHARE, LIKE A BIG QUILT, WHEN SOMEONE WANTS TO KNOW. WHICH ISN'T OFTEN…..BUT SOMETIMES!
Fred and I never feel guilty about begging another cup of steaming apple cider, or a gingerbread cookie, in the tin that Suzanne filled with fresh baking early this morning. Some might get impatient with us, because we've stayed in one place too long…….which is apparently another thing, the modernists can't stand. We may be the two happiest lumps on a yule log (actually known as "clog"), talking for hours about those halcyon days, which to us, were excitingly slow and modest, thought provoking and quietly entertaining. There was nothing fast paced about it…..except the march of time itself. We both will admit quite honestly, we tried and tried to slow down the minute hand, hour by hour, day by day, like the old toffee pulling at our teeth,….. because we were intuitive enough then, to realize, that one day we would frame these youthful experiences, for a nonspecific posterity……possibly to share with readers and significant others, about the meaning of Christmas……as we experienced it, during the days of pleasantly contented lives……satisfied by cent candy, trains and wheels of cheddar.
Fred and I do not seek out an audience to recite these stories. We're not like Stuart McLean, and we really wouldn't fit in to the format of the Christmas version of the Vinyl Cafe. We allow ourselves, you see, all the time in the world, and the privilege of unbridled sentimentality, even to the point of tears. If we have any fears at all, and we don't like to discuss this eventuality, it's the very distinct possibility, our stories will pass away, one day, with us……to never be told and re-told, enjoyed and bestowed as tradition, on whoever happens to be in the next room, at the table beside, or for the benefit of the server, keeping our cups full of hot cider. Maybe we're naive about all this. Possibly no one will care enough, to repeat them in our absence. They will undoubtedly recall us sitting there, casually hearing us, regaling each other with Christmas tales, and sepia tone recollections of old friends and family, who made those occasions so profoundly special……..and maybe, sensing our ghosts are still comfortably sitting around the table, seated on the old blue sofa, may, out of respect for tradition, and the the kindnesses of the season, offer a toast of cider to the memory of two story tellers…..who for long and long, kept the old days polished off, the cheese wheels full of strong cheddar, and the handshakes in the spirit they always were……bonding us forever, to something we may never understand.
I worry about the way Christmas is being kept these days…..or not kept, as it often appears. What has apparently become just a period of reckless spending and harried days, when time is always of the essence, without even a moment to spare, for a friendly hug, or to accept an outstretched hand; or a slap on the back for old times sake. What after all, is "old times sake" anymore? No one has the time to ponder, or use their imagination. Or stop by the hearth, as this, to say nothing at all……but calm in the warm glow, with kindly company, of Christmas present……and soon, with the click of the hour, to then reminisce, a spirited Christmas past.
Please take the time to enjoy your hometown at Christmas. Stop and experience the local fare. Put down the cell phones. Get out of the car. Wander about. It is a sensory paradise out there. Hold hands. Shake hands. Hug a friend. Make a friend. Find some mistletoe. Kiss with good cheer. Dance if you wish. Sing if you must. Make up for lost time. Take an adversary to lunch.
When Charles Dickens wrote about the three spirits of Christmas……he wasn't kidding. We've all got a little Scrooge in us. It's the way life, at times, etches hardness upon the soul. But nothing is as healing, as feeling the joy of a community in its seasonal regalia……coming together as it will, to help the less fortunate, shelter those without, and spread good cheer where it is most dearly required. It is the time of the rolling year, to remove obstacles, and rebuild relationships. A moment in our history to imprint change for the future. Let it be an imprint of co-operation in businesses and industry…..in the neighborhoods of our little town…..and in the vast beautiful countryside, where we all began….. this town of ours.
Fred and I have finished all the cider. We are drunk with contentment. We have relived our pasts, shared our precious stories about the way it was, and have, as a bonus, not injured a single passerby with our enthusiasm for the season. I will wish you a Merry Christmas season, on behalf of two old story tellers, (professors of historical story conservation), and hope that we will meet up with you sometime in the near future……to shake your hand…..good neighbor. Farewell for now. Please visit anytime. It's getting kind of chilly now. Would you mind reaching over and grabbing another chunk of cedar. Maybe you wouldn't mind turning down the oil lamp a bit as well. I love the smell of coal oil, on a cold winter's eve….don't you? Glass of cider? Egg nog with extra nutmeg?
No comments:
Post a Comment