Pens and pencils lying still
do not dream of words they
will write. Quiet til an empty
page is to be filled. When a
hand reaches out for a pen or
a pencil to write the truth,
to write of other worlds,
to write a Christmas card,
to write a grocery list or
to doodle a clown’s face
“A pen is to me as a beak is to a hen.”
~ J.R.R.Tolkien
Christmas comes but once a year,
and so does Christmas clutter!
Boxes and bags evicted from
basements, attics or closets
disrupt the flow of ordinary.
With them may come a tag-a-long
musty dust from that year alone
in the dark. Taking up space on
floor, tables and counters until
cherished decorations are all in
place, any attempt at organization
seems hidden in the chaos of tissue,
ornaments of many colours, sizes and
shapes, tree lights filling corners and
spare rooms until Christmas clutter is
repacked and stored til next year.
What I know for sure is that result of
all the glitter and shine is joyous. It sparkles the
ordinary. For that short time, I wouldn’t trade it
~ just have to work on my clutter anxiety.
“Gifts of time and love are surely the basic
ingredients of a truly merry Christmas.”
~ Peg Bracken
 |
| Wascana Lake, Regina, Sask November 2020 |
I walked last night with two friends. Lake Okanagan was still. It was -7C.
Lights lined the waterfront
and climbed through the city
spread into the hills.
Snow fell delicately
crystalled white flakes
against a darkened sky.
A light breeze persuaded
these sparklets of ice to
slip sideways through
dried leaves and drifting
golden willow branches.
Veils of steam rose in
fine clouds that hovered
inches from the lake’s
glassy black surface.
Crunching, matched footsteps of
three bundled up women
broke through snow and silence,
covered ears and crisp footsteps
quieted any words wandering away
on puffs of breath into the snow drift.
An ever faithful flock of ducks huddled
~ warm to warm ~ green and brown heads
tucked under shining wings out of the cold.
Water blocks stared at the marina ~
glossy, black and empty ~
spaces beside the dock
where few boats wintered,
blanketed with snow and
resting in the stillness.
I walked last night with two friends.
Lake Okanagan was still.
It was -7C.
“Silence is a source of great strength.”
~ Lao Tzu
Author’s note: Snow fell as silently today in Regina, but evoked the same emotions as this poem from Kelowna, Dec. 13, 2000. Such a silent snow fall is gentle and kind.
Walkers, canes, feet, and cars
Steady on ~ Carve ruts
and icy runnels of snow
“….winter forms our character and brings out our best.”
~ Tom Allen
Author's note: inspired by the numbers of people heading to malls and restaurant whether on foot or in vehicles despite the ice and snow.
from a plain tree
to joy of life in
glitter and shine,
dark places gilded
with brightness.
Never quite finished……..
“Don’t settle for what life gives you,
make life better and build something,”
~ Ashton Kutcher
There are many things I love about the Christmas season. The music, the bright lights. The charming Christmas story.
It’s the malls and the technology that seem out of place. Necessary, I suppose, but our kids and grandkids are
missing a real treat ~ shoving me into the generationally challenged category ~ but that’s all right. I earned
every second of these decades. If I hadn’t been from
this technology barren time,
I would have missed out on
the Christmas catalogue. Do you remember
Simpson Sears and Eaton’s catalogues?
Eatons was “Canada’s Christmas Store”.
Shiny colourful pages with beautiful models,
airbrushed too perfectly at a time when that
was okay. Full of everything a kid could
want and more. Sleds, dolls, and toys some
no longer on the market because of perceived
or real danger. But for me I wanted to see
the latest fashions, especially the New Year's
gowns. Getting ideas for the next gowns
I would sketch and colour. I never could get
past the same full skirt and strapless bodice.
Paging through a cold screen with a swipe left,
can't have the same thrill with childhood dreams
and hopes. I do hope that when a child swipes
left, they file in their memory the dream that
wafted from the screen, making their generation
one of wonder when swiping left
has become a memory.
“Whether you shop in person or by ‘phone, you’ll find the people
at Eaton’s friendly and helpful…in the true spirit of Christmas.”
From an Eaton’s Christmas Catalogue, 1960
It was never about making the right choices. How ever could I know the truth of each hour,
of each day, and the years that would pass. It was, and is always, about honouring my
mother who left us on this day in 1971. Seems such a long time but only a few hours
ago. When I feel sadness, I know that hers was deeper;
when I am tired, I know she
was exhausted, and when I am despairing in my life,
I know that her despair was chained to her. It was,
and is always, about honouring my mother.
”I will love you even when I am dust on the wind.”
~Nalini Singh, Archangel’s Blade
988: Suicide Crisis Helpline 24/7 anywhere in Canada
Few words have I
to tell you on this eve
only words that say
it’s time for sleep.
“Sleep is the best meditation.”
~ Dalai Lama
The Regina Newcomers group meets for lunch or dinner every month. But December’s luncheon is a more festive. Casual dress is replaced by dress up gilded casual. We met at the Saskatchewan Hotel - two tables of laughing, welcoming women, including several new members. I’ve been on hiatus from many of our activities, so was glad to see so many friends that welcomed me back to Regina in 2020. We each had tickets for the gifts that were handed out ~ mine was a bag of Indonesian Cappuccino candies! I didn’t see all of the others except a beautiful Christmas angel ornament, a bookmark and other sweet gifts. The menu satisfied and the food was delicious. It almost seemed an aside to this fun social gathering of strong women.
“Being a strong woman is very important to me.
But doing it all on my own is not.”
~ Reba McEntire
Just a few words open
the story of flowers,
petals spread to become
beautiful blossoms.
Just a few words open
the story of humanity,
years and decades reveal
where our journey began.
Just a few words open
this same story to reveal
our travels as humanity
traveled on this earth
Just a few words open
the story of flowers,
petals spread to become
beautiful blossoms.
“We cannot despair of humanity, since we ourselves are human beings.”
~ Albert Einstein
 |
| A screen shot from a previous event in B.C. |
Jake Vaadeland and the Sturgeon River Boys are a Saskatchewan group that tour throughout Canada and Internationally. Rockabilly and Blue Grass music is the signature music of these dedicated musicians. Guitar, banjo and a base cello kept audience clapping and me tapping my toes. Humour and banter carried the evening in conversation with the audience. Old classics and new tunes were played with enthusiasm, with several of them written by Jake Vaadeland. Their encore was a medley of their talent and love of music.
“Life and love go on, let the music play.”
~ Johnny Cash
Author's note: the one photograph I took was not successful, thus my use of the above screen shot. They do need to be recognized.
From December 21, 2013: edited
Christmas Eve is Special
“Debt dispersion! Financial literacy! Hmmph! Just fancy words for how not to get into debt.”
Hugh sat by his fireplace, warming the chill of the winter outside away. Reading the Globe and Mail Business Section was always of interest unless he had just come in from shopping. Which he had. “My money has definitely been dispersed and I know my debt has increased. I wonder if that makes me financially literate or completely illiterate. I don’t know if even half of this stuff I bought for the kids will still be in one piece by New Years.”
All around his feet were wrapped Christmas presents. He donated generously to the volunteer gift wrappers in the mall each year for very selfish reasons - he had always hated wrapping more than one present. On the kitchen cupboard were groceries for Christmas dinner tomorrow. Hugh always left his shopping til Christmas Eve which meant that he had been out all day. Cat, his old grey kitty - he didn’t see any reason for fancy names - was yowling accusingly at the back door when he got home.
He sighed and put his head back and closed his eyes. Cat jumped on his lap, crumpling the newspaper, and curled up purring furiously. They were all each other had most days, but tomorrow the house would be alive and full with noise and laughter. The kitchen would steam with cooking turkey, yams and mashed potatoes. But that was tomorrow when his son and daughter and both of their families arrived for Christmas dinner. He looked so forward to seeing his grandchildren. They were the light of his life. Even though he saw them regularly throughout the year, Christmas Day was especially fun and fulfilling.
He picked up the silver framed photograph that sat by his chair by the fire. He so missed his wife, especially so on Christmas Eve. Once their children had moved out and on with their lives, they had made Christmas Eve a special time. Hugh heaved himself out of his chair, unceremoniously dumping Cat to the floor. She ignored his abrupt interruption of her nap, and jumped back into the chair as soon as Hugh was up and away. Hugh made his way to the kitchen, made sure all the food was put away and took a chilled bottle of sparkling grape from the bulging refrigerator. Two crystal goblets were waiting on the counter. Hugh eased the deep purple beverage into each glass, picked them up and returned to the living room. Setting his dear, dear Sarah’s picture on the mantel, and a goblet beside it, he held his high in toast to her. The fire crackled and sparked. The very tiniest of tear edged the corner of his eye. Hugh turned away quickly to the old turntable by the china cabinet.
“You know the kids want me to get rid of this relic? I told them I always needed it for Christmas Eve. They just rolled their eyes.”
Mellow notes from Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra singing Christmas carols filled the empty spaces in the room. Windows black and glittering from street lamps turned on, the living room was lit with soft firelight, the Christmas tree and the reading lamp. Moving Cat aside, Hugh settled in his chair with his glass, holding Sarah’s picture gently to his chest. Murmuring, ‘I miss you my lovely Sarah’ Hugh fell asleep to dream of other Christmas Eve dances with his precious wife.
The record ended in a round and round hum. Hugh slowly opened his eyes to the reality of his life. The fire had burned out. Cat was scratching at the back door to get let out. Standing and stretching, Hugh placed Sarah’s picture back on the mantle and took their glasses back to the kitchen only one empty.
“Come on, Cat. Let’s get you out and back in so we can close up and go to bed.”
“Which one of us has never felt, walking through the twilight or writing
down a date from his past, that he has lost something infinite?
~ Jorge Luis Borges
