Christmas (Past) on the Prairies

Now that Christmas (present) is over it’s time to reflect on the times we had in the past, mostly good, but some holding disappointments.  I told you about the book that my grandfather Skjenna gave me in 1949, but there are other gifts that, to me, are memorable.  During the War my mother and I lived with my Murphy grandparents in Medicine Hat.  I am not sure whether Mom worked, but I know that my Aunty Jean worked for a construction company, F.R. Gibbs, the office being located on 3rd St. across from what is now the Assiniboine Hotel.  Since rationing was in effect, I suppose that there were shortages of some goods, but we always managed to have what I remember to be good food and good times during the Yuletide season.  The adults celebrated as much as they could, trying to forget for a few moments what was going on in the world and wondering how the young soldiers were faring.  In 1943, the Canadians, which included my father, would have been fighting a terribly bloody battle in Ortona.

These were the days before the sophisticated electrical appliances like refrigerators and so any perishables had to be stored in the ice box beneath the telephone in the kitchen.  Yes, there was a wall mounted telephone that actually worked most of the time, unlike the battery powered phones in Buffalo and Bindloss.  At the farm there was one of the large wooden phones with a crank handle on the side and an earpiece that one held to the ear, while shouting into the mouthpiece hoping that the person at the other end could hear.  Since there were no telephone lines to the farm, the calls were carried through barbed wire fences, dicey at the best of times.  The batteries were large 1.5 volt monstrosities and there was a magneto that the crank operated.  In later years, having taken the phone apart, the magneto came in handy for shocking friends, teachers, etc. as it produced one heck of a jolt when cranked vigorously.

In the city, ice was delivered by the “ice man” who drove up the streets in a wagon powered by two horses.  The milkman also had a horse-drawn wagon and would leave the milk on the doorstep.  In cold weather, the milk would freeze, pushing the cardboard caps up on a column of frozen cream.  In summer, I could hear the comforting clop, clop, clop of their hooves as they meandered down the street delivering goodies to our residence.

There was no central heating in the ‘Hat, but the house was kept cozy with a natural gas stove in the living room.  My grandfather would sit and listen to the latest news of the war while smoking a White Owl cigar or his favorite pipe.  There would be layers of blue smoke  floating in the room accompanied by the sweet fragrance of the tobacco and I would sit watching him peacefully smoking and blowing the occasional smoke ring for my benefit.  Smoking implements had other functions as well:  if I had an earache Papa would blow warm pipe smoke into my ear and for a tummy ache he would use the burning end of a cigar to make circles above my belly button.  I don’t know where he learned this but I found out much, much later that this is similar to one of the oriental practices of moxibustion – and it did seem to help relieve the pain and discomfort of the cramps, or maybe it was simply the magic of a grandfather tending to my needs.

Most of the toys in that era were made of wood since metals were used in the manufacture of war materials. There were even drives to encourage households to donate their aluminum pots to the effort.  One Christmas, despite the metal shortage, I became the proud recipient of a red anodized Mickey Mouse pocket watch that Santa had deposited in my stocking.  This was a thing of beauty, with Mickey’s gloved fists at the ends of the hour and minute hands waiting to point out the time.  Because I couldn’t tell time, I am sure that the purpose of the watch was to encourage me to learn.  With great joy, I wound the watch for the first time, probably too much, and it stopped, never to run again!  I kept it for many years, perhaps hoping that the deity of watches would take pity on me and bring Mickey to life, but to no avail.

In 1945, my grandparents presented me with a book: “The Birds of America” illustrated by John James Audubon.  As you can imagine, this was not a thrilling toy for a three year old, but my tears were assuaged by being informed that the book would someday be valuable.  I recently checked on the current price for this edition on Amazon.com and discovered that it’s current value is about $57.00.  It is, however, a beautiful book and is still treasured.  There are even beautiful drawings of birds that have disappeared from our countryside, having become extinct.  Around the same era, my aunt gave me a brass bell.  What the heck did I need a bell for, especially a queen bell rather than a king?!!  I tried playing with it for a while but, to add insult to injury, the adults found it annoying and I was forced to cease and desist!  I suppose that gifting the bell would be analogous to giving a child a new drum set and telling him/her (mostly him) not to play with it!  How cruel!  Well, I’ve got to admit that I, too, found the bell annoying.  Still do!!

After the War, when metal was in greater supply, I received a Meccano set and a real steam stationary engine.  Dad and I made a flat bed truck and installed the motor so that the truck would steam across the room, usually headed for the flammable Christmas tree!!  One time I fashioned a combine from the pieces.  Dad was so pleased with my mechanical aptitude that we set out for Buffalo that very day so he could show it to my grandparents.  Meccano is again on the market and is one of the best things that a boy can have, with all of its nuts and bolts, beams, girders, plates, wheels, pulleys and gears.

One of our favorite Christmas movies is “A Christmas Story” where little Ralphie desperately yearns for a genuine Red Ryder BB gun but is discouraged by everyone, including Santa Claus.  He is told over and over again that he would shoot his eye out!  Well, I was confronted by the same litany of negativity when I asked for the same thing for Christmas as a boy in Bindloss.  Therefore, I dropped my request down a few notches by asking Santa for a pop gun, a rifle that shot corks a good three feet!  I had visions of hunting bears, deer and other game for sustenance and defending our home against savage Indians and outlaws as well as other miscreants in the two stands of wind-breaker trees along the field east of the house.  I would soon be able to ride with my heroes Hopalong Cassidy, the Lone Ranger, Roy Rogers, Red Ryder or even Gene Autry, as we rid the land and defended helpless damsels from the n’er-do-wells that threatened our peaceful existence.

I could hardly sleep on Christmas Eve as I waited for Santa to bring my trusty rifle, but I finally drifted off.  When awakening in the morning, I could not spot any packages that even looked as if they could conceal a rifle.  Perhaps they were waiting to surprise me – maybe even with a BB gun!!  There was, however, a large package that resembled a huge tissue-wrapped Christmas pudding with a strange protuberance under the tree.  I wondered who this present was for, as I imagined that it was some kind of a broom, but was soon informed that it was for me.  I unwrapped the strange looking package and discovered, not a BB gun, not a pop gun rifle, but a large, complicated anti-aircraft gun!  It sat on a base the size of a 33 rpm record or, for the younger generation, a large dinner plate, and had separate cranks for elevation and rotation.  It was a wondrous thing (in retrospect), but not what I wanted at the time.  I looked for other parcels that might harbour a rifle, but none were there.  Then I thought that maybe my parents would come forth and surprise me with the rifle, but that just did not happen.  I was saddled with an anti-aircraft gun, impossible to use for hunting wild animals or defending us against the Indians, outlaws and other threatening things.  I knew that Hoppy, Roy, or even Gene, or especially Red Ryder, would never let me join them in the pursuit of these villains as the gun could not be shouldered and was too cumbersome and awkward to carry with me on my noble steed.  Besides, airplanes hadn’t been popular in the old west times that I imagined and I was surely not going to shoot down Sky King!  I learned from this incident that, when a child makes a specific request, it is wise to honour that yearning with the exact thing that he/she wants, lest Christmas morning be ruined!

Perhaps one of the most memorable gifts was another thing for which I had yearned – a Lionel train!!  This was at a later time in Medicine Hat where we did have electricity.  It was, and still is, magnificent!!  The locomotive was a Hudson class steam engine that really puffed smoke and there was a remote controlled whistle in the tender.  The loco and rolling stock were individually packaged in orange, blue and white boxes – I was so excited!!  My brother, Graham, and I played with it for hours on end and constructed mountains, fields and villages through which Casey Jones drove the train.  I still have the Lionel, along with other trains in smaller gauges as this train piqued an interest that has remained with me to this day.

Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.
Norman Vincent Peale