Christmas Traditions and Gift Ideas

Since time immemorial the most approved method of extending goodwill and good cheer and of celebrating the festival of Christmas has been to invite one’s friends and relatives to Christmas dinner.

In the 10 years that we have lived on the farm we have endeavored faithfully to live up to this old-time custom and in addition have endeavored to invite one or more people who would otherwise be forced to spend a lonely day. Our farm living room is large, the farm dining table capable of special extension, and we have one of the most welcoming features of all, a big open fireplace built from rocks found on our own land and in which burn huge logs from the hills around all winter long.

This custom of inviting lonely strangers to share our Christmas dinner is the result of one Christmas day that might have been very lonely and sad for us, the Christmas immediately following the Armistice, when my husband returned unexpectedly from France to find that all his own relatives as well as mine were out of
London.

To our delight and surprise on Christmas morning at our hotel there arrived an invitation from their Majesties, the King and Queen, inviting us to a reception, concert and dance to be held at the Royal Albert Hall. It was being given by the King and Queen for all those officers, their wives and sweethearts, whose homes were abroad and who had not come to
England with organized units but who had proceeded voluntarily to join up in the British forces.

Practically all the Royal family were present, including the King and Queen, Princess Mary, the Royal Princess, the Dowager Queen Alexandra and others, all of them entering in a wholehearted manner into the fun and happiness of the occasion and striving at all times to see that their guests had an enjoyable and memorable day.

The entertainment ended with an informal and very enjoyable dance, in which everyone, including members of the Royal family, indulged. Several of the younger members of the Royal family made it a special point to dance with as many of their guests as possible.

So happy were we that night when it was all over, and so great was the contrast between the day we had enjoyed and the dull and lonely day we had anticipated, that we there and then made up our minds that each forthcoming Christmas day we would make our own small effort to do something similar for any British people whom we might discover to be lonely and far from home.

This we have faithfully endeavored to do and have entertained for 10 Christmas days past, a succession of interesting, delightful and amusing strangers.

I recall, for instance, one young bachelor from the elevator in a nearby town who turned out to be a
Cambridge fellow who had taken the very highest of mathematical honors. Another out-of-work young man we picked just before Christmas on the streets of town, lonely and altogether disheartened, turned out to be member of one of
England’s oldest families. He was also a university graduate, out in
Canada in an endeavor to make good. He told us he was always losing his jobs because he could not resist stopping whatever job he was doing to compose poetry when the inspiration seized him! Another man, who was regarded by many people as a grouch and a very silent and unapproachable individual, was transformed by two glasses of port, into a most delightful dinner table companion and an intimate of the very best literature. Another guest we had to keep for several days and send for a doctor on account of his falling violently sick. It turned out to be a case of simple indigestion, but we later discovered that it was the first square meal the poor lad had eaten in several weeks. One of the very earliest of these lonely strangers we entertained has since attained no small success in farming. His appreciation of our slight hospitality for many years passed, has taken the form of presenting the farm every Christmas with an assortment of English delicacies that contributes to a real English Christmas dinner.

When the lights are turned low and the logs blaze warmly, and we are all sitting round the fireplace, many are the enjoyable and happy stories that pass back and forth, of adventures in curious parts of the world, and it is usually the stranger guests who contribute most to the success of the occasion.

Our thought has been to give a little happiness to others, but on looking back over the Christmas days that have passed; we are at one in thinking that we ourselves have probably had most of the pleasure. We have met some delightful and interesting people and have made many friends who have lasted through the years.

I spent my first Christmas on the prame in 1907, shortly after I had commenced homesteading [about 35 miles from
Duck Lake, Sask.] At that time I was full enough of enthusiasm to enjoy anything that had a spice of novelty about it. Christmas day I spent at the home of my friend Shepley with three other bachelor guests. It was different from any Christmas I had ever spent before, but not the least enjoyable by any means. We had very little of the usual paraphernalia of Christmas time. There was no Christmas tree, no holly, no mistletoe, and no girls to kiss under it if there had been.

But what really counts at Christmas is a spirit of good will, a good dinner and a good appetite to enjoy it. We had all of these. Shepley had been to town and might have stayed there over the festive season, but he would not disappoint the rest of us, and came back the night before with a pair of nice fat ducks and a plum pudding.

We all contributed something to the bill of fare, and took turns at cooking and sawing wood outside so that all should have appetites appropriate to the occasion. Chicken soup preceded the roast duck, and plum pudding and mince pies followed, and the feeling of sweet content that seemed to steal over us all when we drew around the stove after dinner, made us forget the homesickness which we all no doubt felt, but which no one spoke about.

The second Christmas was different. We had by this time extended our acquaintance considerably, and had discovered that there were some ladies living in the neighborhood after all. We started to celebrate on Christmas Eve, and with two teams and sleighs gathered up a merry party of nearly twenty. We first went to a Doukhobor village, and with one of the ladies of the party dressed as Santa Claus, beard and all, visited each house leaving toys for the children and having a great time generally. Then we went off to another village, where the Catholic members of the party attended service before we returned home in the early hours of the morning.

The festivities were renewed as soon as we had had a few hours’ sleep and had done our chores, and the whole neighborhood started on a round of visits which lasted till the New Year. Sometimes a bunch of a dozen or more of us would descend unannounced upon some unsuspecting bachelor just as he was preparing for bed and proceed to make ourselves at home in his shack. In case his pantry should not be well supplied, we always took some eatables along, as well as a few packs of cards and usually some kind of musical instrument.

When traveling on the prairie at night one is apt to get lost, so being careful people we generally waited for daylight and breakfast before dispersing. Those were good times, and no one who has not taken part in the social life of a prairie settlement can understand how enjoyable it can be made.

One Christmas Eve, a CPR bachelor sat in his lonely quarters in a small prairie town. He was in a retrospective mood, and there passed through his mind visions of Christmases of the long ago when there was always a joyous throng gathered around the gift-laden tree. He recalled letters addressed in cramped little hands to Santa Claus, thought lovingly of dear faces of those far-off days, and felt very dreary. Thinking, too, of his friends who had recently forsaken the ranks of bachelordom, he was overpowered by a sensation of unutterable loneliness.

Throwing on his greatcoat and cap he went out into what seemed to him a cold and cheerless night. Wandering down the street, and entering a clothing store, he bought a pair of lady’s silk stockings, took them back to his room, hung them in front of the fireplace and pinned to them the following note:

“Dear Santa Claus - Please try and fill these for me before next Christmas.”

Christmas Dinner

Dear Charles -

The torpor of the feast

Still steeps me in its charm, as here I sit beside the stove Contented, placid, warm,

And wonder if my gastric power is competent to wage

Digestive war ‘gainst this assault of turkey stuffed with sage.

And if it isn’t - “What the hell.” Just let the nightmares prance this night upon my stomach’s full and round protuberance;

For I have had a jolly time,

And “Peace on earth” I sing,

“Good will to men,” with hope that they have also had their fling.

‘Twas one o’clock when I went down with vaulting appetite,

And sat with Dickey at my left, the artist at my right;

Hard castle worked the carving knife, Miss Peck a welcome smiled,

While Gertrude piled side dishes full, and giggled as she piled.

With clatter loud the fray began,

We wrought with might and main and knives and forks and everything a victory to gain.

Cranberry sauce was like the dew when fierce the sun doth shine; and celery went down like corn before devouring kine.

But soon the ardor that inspired the first assault was spent,

And on us all began to fall the spirit of Content.

We laid our knives and forks aside, each heaved a happy sigh,

Then took a swig of cider (hard) and wrestled with the pie.

Next came the oranges and nuts, with Dickey’s flow of jests,

And squirmings around in corsets and the opening of vests;

And then reluctantly we rose and up the groaning stairs,

With lagging feet we slowly climbed, and sought our various lairs.

Yes, I was full! I am so still!

Nor deem that fullness sin,

Though Faith and Fasts go hand in hand, to feasts my Hope I pin,

In the entire world I doubt if there’s a saint with soul benign

Whose feeling of good will to men is more sincere than mine?

And so, dear boy, I write to you to wish you well and say

I hope that you abdominal distension feel today,

To hell with liver, blues and dumps! Who cares for griping bile?

Tonight I’ll pledge you as of old in foaming Staten Isle.

What matters it if now and then the wolf should near us snarl? We’re better than the candid fool who bugs his golden “bar’!”

My husband and I expanded our card and gift store by renting the additional space next to our business. It was a scary time, as the rent was now double what we paid before the expansion. I ordered more merchandise to fill the new space at added cost to operate the business. I prayed we would have the customers necessary to pay all the bills. At Christmas, my husband and I decided not to give each other gifts, as finances were stretched both by the store and our personal obligations, including two mortgages on our house.

On Christmas Day of that year, contrary to our agreement, my husband presented me with a huge, heavy gift-wrapped box. I was upset because I had not gotten him anything. He urged me to open the present, so I unwrapped and opened the box. There was another package inside, so I opened that one. Then there were three more boxes to open. Each one was a little smaller than the previous one. Finally, I opened the last one and there were two house bricks and a brightly wrapped jewelry box inside. With trembling hands, I opened the beautiful box. Shining brilliantly was a two-caret diamond tennis bracelet. I gasped and then I cried. The bracelet was on my wish list, but I never thought I would own one.

When I started crying, my husband asked me, “Don’t you like it?” He was afraid it wasn’t what I wanted. I protested, “I love it, but we have no money right now.” “Those are the very times you need a lift, a special present. I love you and wanted to surprise you,” he answered. Well, he surely surprised me! That occasion was twelve years ago, and I still wear the bracelet every day to remind me of his love. The bracelet still shines brilliantly and brings me great pleasure. It was a perfect gift then as it is now. Now that my husband is deceased, it means even more to me. I feel the comfort and the devotion my husband showed me whenever I look at it sparkling on my wrist. It’s almost as if he has his hand on my arm.

My husband bought me many pieces of jewelry throughout our years of marriage and each piece was selected with love and my enjoyment in mind. Sometimes he designed a special piece and the jeweler created it. The jeweler was excited when he was able to fashion a unique gift. When I wear the jewelry, I feel the love he had for me. It is an experience that really can’t be adequately described in words.

Because of my husband’s selflessness and generosity, I now make every gift occasion one of joy and thankfulness for the person’s presence in my life. He taught me the true meaning of giving and how to give from the heart. For that wisdom I will always be grateful.