Pretty Paper

As I sit here staring at my Christmas tree in all its glory, listening to Christmas carols and waiting for my cookies to bake. I am suddenly struck by the song that is playing…its "Pretty Paper" by Roy Orbison. Man how I love this song; it has a purity about it that I just love; I now know why my grandmother loved this song so. (I admit I don't know if she liked Willie Nelson's version better, but I know she loved this song)

I sit and I start to daydream about all the stories that my mom has told me about growing up and her mom preparing the Christmas dinner. My grandma was a small woman but she was feisty no one messed with her when she spoke, but she had a kindness that only grandmothers know how to have. She would stay up until all hours of the night getting everything ready; setting the table with a crisp white tablecloth; ensuring that there were no creases in it. Putting her nice china out; folding the napkins just so and always having a bowl of ribbon candy in the middle of the table. She was like an elf busy at work; baking cookies, preparing the bird, making her famous lapuchine (Christmas pudding cake) and wrapping those last minute gifts they had picked up in town earlier that day; all the while listening to her Christmas Carols. I wonder if the kids actually slept at all that night; knowing that Santa was coming…how could anyone sleep. 

I wonder what smells they would smell, I wonder what their favourite part of that night was, and I wonder how excited they were. I chuckle to myself as I think of the little ones as my grandma is shuffling from room to room getting all set up. She did this for as long as my mom can remember; just to see the smile creep across my mom's face when she re-lives her cherished memories. Oh how I wish I could've been there to see all of that. In my own memory bank I think back to the old house where my mom grew up and I imagine my granny putzing around, getting ready for the big day tomorrow. With the pots boiling on the stove, the counters full of her baking, the table being pristinely set. I can imagine all of this and am enjoying the thought of it...

Just as I have this thought the timer goes off for my own cookies and for a brief moment I enjoy the last few lines of my grandma's favourite song and wonder if my kids will have the same memories of me?

A Lost Art...

Here I sit looking at the few Christmas cards I have received this year; this is a far cry from the number that I had sent out. But that is not my point, my point is...Is this just a silly tradition or something that has been forgotten in our society? I find with how technological everything is that we've forgotten how to compose a hand written anything. There was a time when receiving a Christmas card was an honour; not everyone could afford to purchase paper let alone ink. This was something that came from a very well to do family and you had a warm feeling inside of you when opening this heartfelt wish. Just knowing that in their busy lives they took the time to let you know that you are in their thoughts.

Not to mention the postal service, the people who had to deliver this to you. Just how much they went through so that you could open the card and know that someone special was thinking about you. They would take these letters on horse drawn wagons across extreme heat or extreme cold. Not knowing what was in there just knowing that it was their duty to get this letter delivered to you.

Where have those days gone? When people took the time to write and I mean handwrite a little meaningful note inside. Oh how I miss these days of running to the mailbox anticipating who would send a card to me or even a letter. There was a time not too long ago that writing letters was the norm; but now its text messaging, email and any other gadget that can send your message without any delay…or any emotion. To me this is the true sense of writing a letter or Christmas card, the emotion. We have come so far that in this new age; we've lost our sense of true gratitude of taking the time out of our busy lives to sit down and write something to someone. It's easy enough to send a text but do your true feelings come across? Don't get me wrong I do use the technological advances to my favour; but there is just something to be said about handwriting anything to someone you know. Despite the low number of return cards, I am still going to keep the tradition going…so look forward to receiving a Christmas card from me. And maybe just maybe I've made you think twice about sending out Christmas cards...

Who Do We Really Know?

I went to a funeral last month for a man that I met only once. Our one encounter was very vivid in my mind as I sat in the pew of this tiny chapel. The day I met him, it was a beautiful sunny summer day. We got the news that he was stricken with cancer and was just recently released from the hospital and was residing at the lake. When my boyfriend heard the news we were on our way to go and see him. I decided to go along for the ride and meet the infamous "rodent" as he was lovingly called. At first glance his cottage left little to the imagination for its rustic-ness. The chair in his front yard under the large spruce tree was actually quite humorous, I secretly wondered if he ever sat in it...

After tapping on the screen door a couple of times, we were greeted by a very fragile looking character. I knew instantly why he got his name; he was hunched over and skinny but very alert. We both walked in and as we followed him into his living room, where by the way he was watching TV...I couldn't help but notice the true charm of the place.

He asked if we wanted anything and we declined stating that we were only there for a minute to see how he was doing. He was very open about it all; there were no secrets, just plain facts. As we relished in his stories of chemo-therapy, people in the hospital and his frequent visitors. I couldn't help but pay close attention when his finger pointed to a bowl sitting on his coffee table...there in the bowl were a handful of turtles, individually wrapped in their trademark orange and gold wrapper. Just sitting there gleaming as if they knew we were talking about them; at first I didn't pay much attention until I heard him say that it really meant a lot for those two particular visitors to come all the way to the hospital and see him; especially to bring him those candies. He didn't get that it was something that people do on a regular basis; he was just so touched to have people like that in his life. I felt my heart start to crumble as he told us this story; you could see his emotions in his eyes...it was true and utter gratitude.

I haven't ever seen this emotion since that day in his cottage...and there I sat in the chapel wondering what other memories he had to offer to the others in this room. I just hope that they were as good as mine with the man I had met once.