Singing the Praises of Christmas

Singing the Praises of Christmas

Christmas ... Oh, the fun of it!  The reason for the season is the birth of baby Jesus in a stable, wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger.
Christmas ....The exchange of gifts -- following the lead of the three wise men with their gold, frankincense and myrrh.
Christmas... Jolly old elf -  Santa Clause, St. Nick or Kris Kringle --with the naughty and nice list. Sack full of toys. Ten Commandments.
Christmas... A time for strengthening bonds with family.  Love one another.
Christmas....Carols
Christmas...A way to get through a time of year that could otherwise be dark, long and depressing.

Let's see, here's what you might have been doing lately, if you are one of the many today who participate.  Some say it's overly commercialized, but others like me and mine, take full advantage. We wait all year for this short little time frame when we can shower each other with presents that we wouldn't normally buy the rest of the year.  My family are Christmas lovers and we're not ashamed of it.

Christmas shopping for everyone on your list, including multiple stocking stuffers for all - check.  Sounds simple but means pouring over sales flyers; wandering around stores; wracking your brain for what your loved one might want or need; keeping a running tally of prices so nobody gets more than the other.  Surprizingly enough, I get a kick out of doing this every year.  Our family started a tradition a number of years ago of sharing our wish lists with each other.  That way we all get something we can actually use and need or want and not get useless items or things that inevitably sit on a shelf or get returned or regifted.  Gift cards seemed to have gained some popularity.  At first, they weren't my favorite, but they have grown on me since.  I've found them to come in quite handy.  They are quite practical when you think of the bang you will get for your buck at the Boxing Day sales.  If you're like me, I might not get around to using them until August or so, so always fun to get something new before going back to school.  I just don't think I would want to give or get 100% gift cards because it's always nice to have a variety.  It's the same as giving nothing but cash.  Cash is good, but not very ingenious.  Depending on the amount of cash, I could possibly change my mind.

Giving - check.  Don't walk by those bell ringers; give to the food bank; help someone in need.  Remember the snow angels.  Remember the little children who may not get anything.  Help where you can.  Don't fall for the scam artists. 

Wrapping presents - check.  I'm the world's worst gift wrapper, so as long as I have a gift bag, rolls of paper, scotch tape, and sticky name tags I'm set.  I used to get quite fancy with the ribbons and bows, (when was that?) but that has sort of gone by the wayside. (No kidding).  I'm always happy to get something wrapped prettily, but how they get them to look like that escapes me.

Setting up the tree - check.  This is not one of my favorite activities.  My tree is artificial and has to have each branch shaped by hand.  It's hard on the skin.  I used to have a real tree, but for various reasons including needles all over the house, I switched.  I do miss the smell of pine though.  Other years I have received a fresh Christmas arrangement or wreath and always love those.

Decorating the tree - check.  Almost all the decorations I put on my tree have some sort of personal memory attached to them. Many are gifts from someone over the years. Some were made by my kids when they were little. These are so precious to me. Various friends and relatives have given me some extremely unique and memorable ornaments.  If you're wondering what to get a teacher or somebody who has everything....think about an ornament for their tree.  If you make the ornament yourself, that is even better.  I have a stained glass candle.  I have little mice made out of walnuts with rubber bands for tails. 

Decorating the house - check. I have ornaments  and figurines of all shapes and sizes all over the place.  Of course I have the count-down or advent calendar which is always fun as the day gets closer.  :-).  I will never be able to top my sister-in-law or my Mom though.  They both have whole lighted villages set up on several tables.  They have every manner of Christmas decoration you can imagine....including Christmas clocks and towels.  I have pillows that go on my couch and towels too, but can't always lay my hands on them in time for the season.  I have tablecloths, trays, salt and pepper shakers, etc.

Writing and mailing the Christmas letter - check.  I still haven't given up on this hard copy concept because I, myself love to get real, tangible mail you can touch.  I also love seeing your photographs.  I know email is way easier and cheaper, but it's just not the same for me.  If you live in the same city as me, I usually won't send you a card though.  Surely to goodness I can wish you a Merry Christmas in person.  If I never see you around, then I might have to rethink that idea.

Buying groceries to start Christmas Baking.  Still left to do.  In my family, my children go to their in-laws every other year.  This is that year, so I will host an early Christmas where we will open our gifts from each other.  We will also have a turkey supper.  I can't wait to see my four little grandchildren when they are in the midst of all the paper and the fun. 

A few days later, on Christmas Eve, whoever is around from my family and I generally attend a Christmas Eve service.  I can't remember a time when the church wasn't filled to overflowing with people singing and praying their hearts out.  The nativity scene enactment is always a big hit as is the singing of Silent Night by candlelight.  On Christmas day, I spend the day with others in my family.  We will open gifts and cook a big meal.  We will have put the turkey on to roast over night (which I know is no longer recommended), but the house has such a wonderful aroma, it's hard not to.   It's fun to spend the day lazily playing cards, or games, or simply watching movies.   We usually have a big lunch and then eat left-overs for supper and well into the week.  Naps are big-ticket items on Christmas Day.  Inevitably the phone will ring and it will be even more members of the family wishing everyone a Merry Christmas.

Boxing Day over the past few years has become a day to shop for bargains.  The stores are generally jam-packed with people out for a stroll and also those who are seriously after a deal.  Usually by the 27th or 28th guests are starting to head for home.  The roads get busy and are usually icy in patches, so please be careful if you are travelling.

So did you ever wonder how Christmas evolved? I did a little reading and want to give credit to the bbc.co.uk for some of the information.

Did you know that Christmas is a combination of christian, pagan and folk traditions?

During pre-Christianity a Sun God pagan custom was to use holly to ward off evil .  Later, holly, with its crimson berries became a symbol of Jesus' crown of thorns.

The Druid Celtic priests cut mistletoe fruit from the oak tree as a symbol of life in dark winter months.

The Norsemen, Romans and Jews participated in a time of feasting and celebration as the days started to grow longer.  They decorated their houses with greenery, lit candles and gave presents.  Yule is associated with the sun being seen as a wheel that changed the seasons. During the winter solstice, they lit bonfires, told stories and drank sweet ale.

In Judaism - Hanukkah is an eight day mid-winter festival of lighting candles to represent a time to remember, to celebrate light, to give gifts, and to have fun.

Scandinavian mythology portrayed a  jolly old elf with a pipe, a sack full of toys, a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer with names, and a life at the North Pole workshop that included elves.

St. Nicholas was the patron saint of sailors who assisted with building their dowry of gold coins.

The twelve days of Christmas are from medieval times where Christmas eve to Epiphany on January 6 was the time period when Jesus was revealed to the world.

The Advent means "coming" and starts November 30 with fir wreaths and four candles.  This is the time period prior to the birth of the savior. 

Alas, in 1644, Christmas was banned in England by the Puritans, so there was no more decorating of houses or making mince pies.  During the Victorian era (1837 - 1901) however, the Dickens Christmas Carol attempted to revive medieval Britian.  It showed the ideals of Christmas including carols, card giving, and the Christmas tree. 

Christmas trees are a German tradition.  In 1834, Prince Albert, a member of the Royal family, was given the gift of a Christmas tree by the Queen of Norway.

So, as you can see, even though you may associate Christmas strictly with Christianity, it really has evolved from several places over time into what we practice today.  

What are those Christmas carols you know every word to?  A few, but certainly not all - While Shephards Watched Their Flocks By Night; Away in a Manger; Silent Night; O Little Town of Bethlehem; It Came Upon a MidNight Clear; Oh Christmas Tree.

What are your favorite dishes at Christmas?  Mine are turkey, gravy, ham, mashed potatoes, jellied salads, cranberries, vegetables, fresh buns, pickles, olives, perogies, cabbage rolls, pie, Christmas pudding,  mincemeat tarts, butter tarts, sugar cookies, ginger snaps, shortbread cookies.  Did I say pie?  :-)

Snacks - chocolates, nuts and bolts, taffy, fudge. Did I say chocolates?  :-)

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Holidays, Felice Navidad, or however you say it.  We all have our special holidays to celebrate.  Christmas is revered by many in the world just as other religions observe their religious holidays.  Whatever you celebrate, please enjoy yourself at this time of year.




 

Ancient Times

I recently attended a day-long educational aboriginal symposium in Saskatoon.  After a variety of speakers and a delicious lunch, the group of attendees was taken mid afternoon to the north end of the city.  We travelled by bus, past the outskirts another five kilometers to Wanuskewin Heritage Park. 

Please feel free to visit their website at www.wanuskewin.com.  The park is over 360 acres in breadth and the natural flora, fauna, herbs and rock formations remain all along the many scenic trails and sites of archaeological digs.  The area is very near the Saskatchewan River and has the Cathedral Bluffs neighbourhood as their closest neighbour.

This display case of beautifully beaded men and women's clothing met us at the front door.  The dress was typical of the Northern Plains Indians.

We were taken to a large room in the architecturally-unique interpretive centre and shown some very interesting footage about the origins of that sacred place.  We were told that amazingly, aboriginal people had followed the buffalo to that same meeting place every year for over 6,000 years.  Archaeologists have found artifacts as they dug down, layer by layer to prove it.  They asked us to put that timeline into perspective.  When you think of what a short time ago European colonialization really began....it was less than 200 years.  That simple fact made me stop and think and I realized how short a lifetime really is.  We were told  of the seven First Nations that reside in Saskatchewan and were told their greetings: Tansi (Cree), Aninskwa (Saulteaux), Edlanete (Dene), doken ya un (Dakota), Toki I ya un (Nakota), toked ya un (Lakota), Oki (Blackfoot), and Hello (English).  Incidentally, one of the conference speakers had welcomed us to the area of Treaty 6 earlier that day.  Saskatoon is Treaty 6 for instance, while Yorkton, to the south is Treaty 4.   Once introduced to the concept, you don't soon forget these things, but the second part of the tour made an even deeper impression on me. 

A young woman demonstrated hands-on how to construct a tipi.  It was an amazing experience and I felt almost confident enough, when it was over, that I could build one myself if the opportunity ever arose.  She was an amazing teacher and spoke so slowly, patiently and confidently.  The poles are from plain old poplar trees, young, straight saplings with the bark peeled off.  Each pole has a separate word and meaning attached to it.  For instance, one of the poles is for respect, one for child rearing and like that.  The tipi below is one that sits on display in the centre.  Please note the rocks around the bottom are placed there specifically to keep out rodents and rain.  I tried to take pictures of the inside of the tipi, but they really didn't turn out...too dark.  The interior is small, but very cozy with a floor of lush, thick furs and room for an open fire in the middle.  Where the poles criss-cross at the top is said to signify a place for an eagle to nest.  The eagle has a place of importance in the world in part because it flies so high and sees so much. One of the most interesting aspects of the tipi is that it was totally the responsibility of the women. They put it up, took it down and carried it from place to place.



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The open flaps of the canvas at the top of the tipi are meant to signify the open arms of a woman and mother.  The flaps can be opened or closed depending upon the time of day and weather.  The front entrance is closed from the outside with a dozen or so sticks that are threaded each through two holes.  They for all the world look like those coats that used to have buttons that looked like elephant tusks.  The tipi poles for these particular tipis were approximately eight feet in length.  There are bigger sizes in different areas of the country, but the reason the tipis were small here was because they had to be transported from place to place quickly and easily.  They were made to accommodate the nomadic lifestyle involved with following the buffalo herds. 

Having lived in Saskatchewan my whole life and knowing that the temperature in the winter can reach minus sixty degrees celsius, I am amazed that the people survived. If I get cold, all I have to do is turn up the thermostat in either the house, the car or the office.  If it's bitterly cold, I don't spend much time outside.  Life today has no resemblance to those harsher times.  Sure, I've had frostbite if outside too long, but I can't imagine the wind whipping for days and weeks on end and having to huddle around a camp fire.  I know the importance of physically moving your body, so I can't feature a life of months and months confined to an area where you couldn't really stand up and walk around. 

I also cannot feature having a few rambunctious children spending a long, freezing cold winter in an area that was essentially 8 feet round.  The interpreter at the centre told us of the many and very strict rules involved with living that way of life in a tipi.  I can understand why there would be so many rules.  At all costs, limits would have to be set and measures taken to strongly enforce survival of the fittest. Not knowing about the R factor warmth in buffalo hides and skins, perhaps I would have a different view if I did know. Buffalo, moose, deer, elk, wolf, coyote, birds etc.  live outside in all types of weather, so there is obviously something to it.

Think of Buffalo, these massive creatures who roamed free all over the prairies for thousands of years and then suddenly came dangeroulsy close to extinction.   We worry about hitting a moose with our vehicles, can you imagine hitting one of these beasts?  First off, they look kind of cranky to me and their horns would be nothing to fool with. If their hides and furs could sustain the peoples' existence for so many millenia in Canadian extremes of weather, it's a tragedy that they no longer grace our wilds.  We only see them today a few at a time roaming and grazing in game preserves and zoos.  On the other hand, I can't imagine the panic I would feel if I was out picking berries and heard the distinctive hoof beats of a herd of these rampaging beasts coming my way!

 

 

A buffalo skull and horns is preserved under glass at the centre.  Incidentally, Regina is the capital city of Saskatchewan and was originally called "pile of bones".  I guess we can understand which animal bones they were thinking of.

 



There are two galleries at the centre filled with fabulous art and cultural artifacts.  Below is a drum.  The structure holding it appeared to be metal.

 



 The item that follows appears to be perhaps where our modern day quilting got its start.  Maybe not, but who knows....could be, couldn't it?  The difference is that the cloth and thread is animal hide. The decorations are made from beads.  Quite beautiful, precious and an indicator of ancient times that live on today. I have a pair of slippers made of these same materials.  They are cool in the summer and warm in the winter...the best pair of slippers I have ever owned.

 

 



 

 

There is something so romantic about what went on in our land before we were ever born. We try to imagine it, but it's only in the last few decades that we are even beginning to understand how things evolved from then until now.  I am proud of the first nations people and of our shared heritage.  Aboriginal people are strong and resilient and we have so much more to learn from them if only we will take the time to listen.

 

Forgive and Forget ... how far can you go?

Learning to forgive and forget  they say makes you the bigger person, whoever "they" are.  We all makes mistakes and everyone deserves a second chance.  I would not argue that.  So, when someone wrongs us, we tend to call on all the inner reserves we can muster, along with using whatever maturity and common sense it takes to unleash our own "decent~ness".  We dig deep, way down, underneath the hurt, and the shame, to find the flicker of love that was once there.  Even when nearly extinguished,  we do what we can to take a stab at forgiveness and fan the dying flame of decency once more.  After all, negative strokes they say, are better than no strokes at all. 

What I mean is that it can only  be a half-hearted attempt because it's in direct proportion to the magnitude of the travesty, which can only ever be a simple formula...a ratio really.   Many of us simply cannot comprehend that someone we love could hurt us deliberately, or God forbid, have a black heart.  Initially, we rationalize on their behalf and invent excuses for them, grasping at whatever straws are available.  We try to ignore what is staring us right in the face....they are hurting us....no doubt about it.  We don't want to see because you and I both know we aren't like those other people of the world who make a career out of seeing the dark side of others.   That type can't seem to see the forest for the trees. Yet some, like you and I don't have to look far to find the pureness, the inner child, and the light that resides within those around us.  Besides, we understand that for some, their once bright inner torch has only temporarily deserted their lighthouse,  and we confirm it with a glance at the windows to their soul...yes, what's left we see is only a faint ember burning.

When we are offended, aggrieved, and hurt, we go numb.  We stop everything.  We lack the ability to make even the smallest of plans because all functions are literally malfunctioning at the junction.  We are like a house fly when the weather turns cold.  We're forced into slow motion through no fault of our own.  We are an easy target.  We lack the ability to connect one thought process to another.  We are caught in a closed loop.  We ask why, over and over and over.  We want to know why and how it happened? Even when there is no answer.  We wonder what we did wrong.  We speculate, guess and hedge our bets about what contributed to the outcome.

We are left shaken and wondering if our worlds will ever be the same.  We must grieve for our losses, but especially for the loss the person we once knew and the way of life we once had.  We must grieve the wrongdoing, try to make sense of what happened, and try to move on.  After all, holding on to the past, especially the negative,  is neither productive nor wise.

Wrongdoings come in all shapes and sizes, from criminal activities to relationship betrayals and everything in between and beyond. 

Courts of law tend to be fairly black and white.  The evidence is looked upon in a strict and regimented way.  Strangers are present to make  decisions about your loved one.  That's the bizaare part.  They look at this member of your family and in part make a determination just by the presence or absence of remorse.  They decide whether it is it real, fake, contrived, or simply anger and sadness at being caught.  The judge and jury try to decide if the behavior was a one-time offence or if it is a continual pattern.  They predict, based on all the evidence, if the behavior might return again.  The evidence is assembled not only through submissions by the prosecutor and defense lawyer  but by the testimony of witnesses and by continual watching of the verbal and non-verbal demeanour of the accused all through the proceedings. The manner of dress and cleanliness is assessed as extremely important.  The court observes whether the person is depressed, cold and calculating, or suicidal.  They hear testimony from professionals about mental illness or addictions.    Lastly, using all their senses plus an unexplainable sixth sense which includes intuition, and a wish for telepathy, they look deep into the eyes of the accused.  They ponder and pray to God for guidance before their deliberations are complete.

In the world outside the courts, there is no charge, neither judge nor jury; the family, friends, and community must make these same determinations.  Such situations are not easy.  In aboriginal culture, they may resort to sentencing circles.  When addictions are involved some societies resort to interventions.  Religious communities may resort to shunning.  In cases of abuse though, many families seek professional help, but far too many tend to go it alone.

Let's take the one-time offender, wracked with guilt, and full of remorse.  That person is most likely going to get a fairly light sentence.  Perhaps a fine, or a short time behind bars.  The public is happy when the discipline fits the crime.  They wait and watch while the subject endures whatever hardship is bestowed.  They want to see a full rehabilitation when the discipline is meted out and endured.  After all is said and done, they wonder, why did the person fall off the rails in the first place?  Was it a thrill-seeking adventure because of sheer boredom?  Was the person lead to a dark place by unsavoury friends or acquaintances?  Was there a temporary lapse in judgment while the person was influenced by drugs or alcohol?  Has the person gone mad? 

A common example is the Christmas Party from a few decades back.  When it's time to go home, the man, who has definitely had too much to drink, hands the keys over to his wife.  After all, she makes less money than him and it would be much less inconvenient if she lost her license than if he lost his.   She reluctantly gets behind the wheel even though she's had a few drinks too.  So far so good she thinks as she swerves on the icy streets.  Before she knows it though, there's a flashing red light pulling her over.  She bears the brunt of the offence and has her license marred as a result.  Today, people are much more savvy than that (I hope).  Mothers Against Drunk Drivers (MADD) and Students Against Drunk Drivers (SADD) have worked along with police and community media campaigns to try to get the message out...."don't drink and drive".  People nowadays seem to realize more than ever that it's better to call a cab than for anybody to drive drunk.

It takes a big person to forgive and forget, but remember the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.  If your loved one has had a second or third or fourth chance and continues to make you the brunt of their bad behavior, you are probably now becoming a victim.  Please, for everyone's sake... look hard and see if you are living in the cycle of abuse.  Do you recognize the explosive incident....or the slip from sobriety....or the cheating?  Then... do you recognize the honeymoon phase once the cat is out of the bag?  Do you hear these words?  I love you so much, you're the only one I ever wanted....I can't live without you....See the behavior for what it is.  Ask yourself if there is some reason you can't live without this person.  Is it because you are so co-dependent and beat down that you won't allow yourself to believe there is another and better life waiting out there for you?  If you don't know what co-dependent  means in a relationship, please google it!  If you find yourself in this situation, by all means find a good counsellor and talk your heart out.  It will help on so many levels.

Not all offences are prosecuted formally....some are matters of the heart and are dealt with in living rooms and kitchens.  Navigating through these situations can only make us stronger and wiser.  All the best to those trying desperately to get away from all forms of lethal controllers and unkind people.  You need all the support and encouragement you can get, so if someone asks if there is anything they can do to help....ask if they want to go for coffee...



 

Letting Go Takes Love

The following poem found its way to me before 1998.  My kids were finishing high school and preparing to leave home for the first time.  They were heading to university, one after the other.  Somebody shared the poem with me, because I was playing the 'what if' game  and worrying myself sick at every turn.  At one point when one of my teenagers was staying out way too late, I was laying awake  every night worrying.  I would show up at work the next day bleary-eyed and frazzled, but was eventually brought up short by an older female co-worker.  I guess I had told her my tale of woe one too many times.  I had said how my child (almost adult) was no longer flying under the radar because now we had lifted the curfew after a long and painful negotiation.  After all, it was only a matter of weeks until the child would move away to a different city to go to school.  I as a parent was still in shock from no more curfew. Now, my imagination was running wild as I thought about what could happen in the cold, dark, and wee hours of the morning. 
 
My co-worker  clucked her tongue, shook her head and looked me right in the eye.  She asked me what good it was doing anybody for me to lose sleep like I was. I stared at her dumbfounded.  She asked as clear as a bell, "don't you have any faith?"  I remember being shocked by the question, because of course I believe in God.  For some reason though, I never made the connection that anyone was in charge of my behavior except me.  I was making one of those common mistakes that we humans make in believing we can control all things in our lives, but particularly those related to our children and families.
 
I learned a huge lesson that decade.  I learned to back off and let go where possible. (Of course, this remains a work in progress). I discovered our children and families have just as many brains as we have and they have to learn things on their own.  They can't possibly know what we know and what we have experienced, just the same as we can't expect to know everything about them.  Like us, they have to write their own stories in the sand based on their own experiences.  Our job is to be the vessels that house and protect their most important memories, their precious childhood experiences.  My newfound insight didn't happen overnight, but I have to say I grew up a whole lot after coming to terms with the concept.  No one wants to see their child make a mistake, especially when it involves a loss of money, or seeing them get hurt.  Okay, there are times where you really do have to step in, I admit it...safety always comes first.  Pick and choose those times though, because they may resent you for it in the end.  The rule of thumb is to get hold of yourself, bite your tongue....let go and let God.  One day after they leave home and grow up, they may start small by coming back to you to ask for your advice.  This is a test.  Try not to take over, because if you do, what are you teaching them?  Learned helplessness is never a good thing.  If you pass their first test, they may progress to actually asking for your help in some small way.  On those days, you have to be there, waiting and ready to help ....just don't overdo it.  
 
Don't lecture them, even if you want to.   How does one stop these bad habits?  There are ways around lecturing, like storytelling, but again too many stories is a dead giveaway and can get worse than lecturing....They know you inside out and backwards remember.  They know you can already do everything with your eyes closed.  Their eventual goal is to prove to you that they can too.  Remember, they have gone from total dependence on you as a baby, to budding independence, and then to total independence.  The independent stage hopefully doesn't last forever, because eventually everyone needs to develop a sense of collaboration with their loved ones.  So relax and wait, be ready for it because some day, if you play your cards right, they'll be back listening to your every word and learning about all your wise ways.
 
I love this poem, it makes me stop and think.  It was written by 'anonymous', so I don't know the context from which it arose, but it is one of the most powerful writings I know of.    If you've seen it before, I hope you can renew within yourself the ideas it so easily portrays.  Happy reading if this is your first time.
 
LETTING GO TAKES LOVE

To let go does not mean to stop caring,
it means I can't do it for someone else.
To let go is not to cut myself off,
it's the realization I can't control another.To let go is not to enable,
but allow learning from natural consequences.
To let go is to admit powerlessness, which means
the outcome is not in my hands.
To let go is not to try to change or blame another,
it's to make the most of myself.
To let go is not to care for,
but to care about.
To let go is not to fix,
but to be supportive.
To let go is not to judge,
but to allow another to be a human being.
To let go is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes,
but to allow others to affect their destinies.
To let go is not to be protective,
it's to permit another to face reality.
To let go is not to deny,
but to accept.
To let go is not to nag, scold or argue,
but instead to search out my own shortcomings and correct them.
To let go is not to adjust everything to my desires,
but to take each day as it comes and cherish myself in it.
To let go is not to criticize or regulate anybody,
but to try to become what I dream I can be.
To let go is not to regret the past,
but to grow and live for the future.To let go is to fear less and love more
andTo let go and to let God, is to find peace !Remember: The time to love is short ------ author unknown

I'se the b'y

I'se the b'y that  builds the boat and I'se the b'y that sails her,

I'se the b'y that catches fish and takes them home to Lizer.

Do you know this song?  I was in Halifax, Nova Scotia exactly a year ago during the first week of October, 2011.  It was my first visit there, ever.  By 11:00 p.m., I had settled into the hotel room at The Lord Nelson and  crawled under the covers.  The hotel was an historical, old building and for some reason the front desk people had upped my reservation from a regular room to a suite fit for royalty.  The rooms were large with wide hallway, cozy living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and a large bathroom.  The walls and trim were a dark wood, probably mahogany.  The art and other fixtures were expensive and ornate.  It was quite possibly the most lavish place I have ever stayed or likely ever will.  I realized the rooms were most likely inhabited by the queen at the very least, not to mention other members of royalty who had stayed there before me.  By some freak of nature, coincidence, or luck of the draw, (but definitely not by foresight), I had gotten to fill in the gap when no other dignitary was around.  Lucky me!  The same thing happened to a friend of mine at the Hotel Saskatchewan in Regina.  She got upgraded to the suites reserved for the Queen and her family when they plan a visit the Queen City.  I'm not sure, but the Saskatchewan Ghost Stories books say the Hotel Saskatchewan is haunted.  My friend swears her room was so who knows?

As I lay back in the king-sized bed languishing in my glory, I soon fell into that realm between sleep and wakefulness.  As my mind wound down,  I faintly detected  a melodic tune, buried somewhere deep within the recesses of my mind, surfacing ever so softly now and then, increasing my awareness of it  over time. Eventually, the sound became loud enough so as not to be ignored and I was jarred awake.  My eyes flipped open with the realization that it was a song I knew.  But what song was it?  I rehearsed the tune in my mind and then hummed it aloud, until suddenly the words sprang from my mouth.  It was I'se the b'ye that builds the boat.....

I burst out laughing right there in bed.  This was a song from my childhood that we associated with the Maritimes!  I understood.  The place was haunted by a friendly, but probably slightly inebriated ghost.    My flight had arrived around 9:00 p.m. and after a long taxi ride into the city,  I had taken in a late meal of beer and clam chowder in the restaurant/bar on the main floor.  So, either the building was haunted or the clam chowder was playing tricks on me.  I didn't feel afraid, but was just brought to my full attention, and remembered to thank out loud whomever it was that had welcomed me to the East Coast in such a rock-a-bye-baby way!

The next day, after listening to a full line-up of speakers at the conference, we were taken on a bus tour to Peggy's Cove.  The sky was dark and the ocean looked hard, angry, and very unforgiving.  The wind whipped all around us and the white light house with the red trim at the top stood it's post, watching and waiting for any chance to signal a ship in distress.   There was a moaning sound I will never forget which was present in my ears the entire time I stood on that rocky cliff.  At first I thought it was a whale or dolphin, because somebody claimed they had spotted something, but no, it wasn't that.   Next, I thought it was a ship somewhere out in the fog, but no, it wasn't that either.  Finally, I thought it had to be the wind.  There were alot of people there that day and nobody knew what the moaning sound was either because believe me, I asked everybody.  In fact, I was unsure if they even heard it based on the funny looks they gave me.

What I learned as the bus took us to a new place further down the road seemed to help explain it.  We stopped to pay our respects and to visit the site of the Swiss Air plane crash, another place on the banks of the ocean...There is a cairn there, erected in memory of the many people who lost their lives.  Again, standing there amongst the boulders and heather, and being whipped by the cold wind,  I decided I had a pretty good idea of what was causing the moaning.

That same evening, the two bus loads of us were taken to a large hall and fed.  If you can imagine, we were given two full lobsters each to eat! The most I have ever had in Saskatchewan was one solitary lobster tail dipped in melted butter. To say I savour lobster is a definite understatement. We danced and drank beer and listened to lively rock and roll music played by a band of guys who were in their fifties. (They were the Heinz variety, but truly, there are no other kinds.)

There is so much history in these places.  Halifax is the port where thousands of our ancestors arrived when they first came to Canada.  All the studying we did in school about the earliest newcomers comes alive here.  They all arrived by ship and docked at these coastal ports.  Some passed through town, others stayed and died on the sea, or even others made their way West.  We are their descendants..  It all makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.  I am so fascinated by this I know I will have to return one day to find out more.  The three hour wait on the tarmack because of the lightning storm before we could deplane was definitely worth it!

 

 

War Hero

My dad's sister, aunt Laura Busby, was married to uncle Henry Steve, who fought with Canadian troops during the second world war.  All the time I knew him, (between 1954 and into the first decade of the millenium...sometime before 2006), I found him to be a quiet, pleasant man who lived in the tiny village of Meskanaw, then the small city of Melfort, Saskatchewan, Canada.  He worked in Meskanaw's hardware store for many years, and aunt Laura caretook the large one-room school house.  The hardware store was owned by the Sinclair family, until it closed.  In an Ethelton community book (which includes Meskanaw) and was published in the 1970's,  they said she was the caretaker for 26 years.  I knew he drove their car in a very limited way, because they were forever having to get someone to drive them or missing far away functions altogether.  For instance, he would only drive if he could go slow on a short trip, or on a side road.  In fact, he would far sooner stay home than be the driver on a long trip, especially if faced with a major highway.  Everyone said the reason was "shell shock" from his time in the war.  The couple eventually moved into smaller, seniors' housing facility in Melfort  at the Pioneeer Lodge and later into the Legion facility.

He was a dedicated gardener and won an award for best garden at the Pioneer Lodge many years running...the "Golden Spade", I believe it was called.  She canned and pickled, did crafts and cooked. Throughout all those years, I found her very talkative, while he was quiet and generally more subdued.  He often told me of his life growing up in Warman, Saskatchewan.  The original house is still standing on that windy little road between Warman and Martensville.  He was proud of his association with his community, especially with the Seager Wheeler farm since they were neighbours.   Please see the website, www.seagerwheelerfarm.org

Neices and nephews always played an important role in aunt Laura and uncle Henry's lives because they had no children of their own.  Unfortunately, first our aunt passed away unexpectedly in the early part of the 2000 decade, (sometime before 2004).  She had physically cared for him for a number of years prior because his health was failing miserably. I guess her body gave out.  After her death, he was admitted to a nursing home where I was a manager and got to know him even further.  However, within a year or two, (before 2006), he passed away himself, gone to be with her. 

This weekend, my daughter and I drove back to Melfort for a visit.  What we learned as we reminisced is that uncle Henry was born in the United States and received his Naturalization papers when he became a Canadian citizen.  Another official document shows his release from the armed forces.  On that document, I was stunned to learn that he was a member of the elite "Black Watch" regiment of the Canadian Armed Forces during World War II.  Others in his family, like neices and nephews may have known this forever, but not me.  Remember, my dad came from a family of eight brothers and sisters and today their offspring are scattered all over the country.  My own mother is the last one of that generation left.

From the website for the Black Watch,

http://www.blackwatchcanada.com/en/heritage-and-history/a-brief-history

"During World War II, the Canadian Regiment joined with battalions of the Black Watch from all parts of the Commonwealth in the struggle to defeat the Axis Powers. The Regiment first saw action at Dieppe, where its "C" Company and Mortar Platoon were key components of the assault force. Landing in Normandy shortly after D-Day, the Black Watch participated in some thirty battle actions throughout France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Germany. Members of the Regiment won 211 honours and awards for the campaign."

From the Black Watch War Time Memories Project Website,

http://www.wartimememoriesproject.com/ww2/allied/blackwatch1.php

"The Black Watch was formed as part of the Childers Reforms in 1881 when the Royal Highland Regiment (The Black Watch) was amalgamated with the 73rd (Perthshire) Foot to form two battalions of the newly named Black Watch (Royal Highlanders). During World War I the 25 battalions of Black Watch fought in France and Flanders, Mesopotamia and Palestine and the Balkans. In World War II, battalions of the Black Watch fought in almost every major action of the British, from Palestine to Dunkirk to Normandy and as Chindits (42 and 73 columns) in Burma.
The 1st Battalion was despatched to France in May 1940 and forced, under the assault of the German blitzkrieg, to withdraw to Dunkirk. Along with most of the 51st Highland Division, it was ordered to surrender at St Valery. In August 1942 the re-formed 1st Battalion along with the 5th and 7th Battalions arrived in North Africa as part of 51st Highland Division in time to take part in the battle of El Alamein, the turning point in the war. This was followed by pursuit across North Africa with hard-fought victories at Mareth and Wadi Akarit, and the entry into Tripoli. Still under the 51st Highland Division, the 1st Battalion Black Watch was part of the invasion of Sicily. After heavy fighting by the 1st Battalion at Gerbini and by all at Sferro, Sicily was conquered. The 1st, 5th and 7th Battalions, still in the 51st Highland Division, were all landed in Normandy on or shortly after D Day, 6 June 1944. All three battalions were employed in the operations to stem the last German offensive into the Ardennes in January 1945. It then fought in the battles of the Reichswald Forest on the Dutch-German? border, with the 1st Battalion being the first Allied troops on German territory. "

Once aunt Laura passed away, and uncle Henry was hospitalized and put into long term care, it was like he couldn't stop talking.  Several of us visited him often and what I discovered was that he spoke almost continuously, hardly stopping to take a breath.  He had alot to talk about.  He wanted to talk about the war and it was in a way that seemed like he was viewing it from the inside out.  When I look back, it was almost like a cathartic session for him, either that or like he was verbally writing his memoirs.  He seemed to know that his time on Earth was almost over, because he had an urgency about him to get it all out.  He spoke of tactics and operations, just like they were yesterday.   His eyes would come alive, his mannerisms would match with arms  waving and legs jumping.  He would vividly be right there in the moment  and be pulling you into the memory right alongside him. Indeed, you had to listen hard to keep up, knowing you would do everything in your power to support this incredible animated story of his.  I wish I had recorded those visits.

Many of the men and women who returned from the war and who had experienced raw, emotional events were reluctant to dwell on their memories to others.  That had been uncle Henry to my knowledge.  My whole life, I had heard him talk only minimally about his life during war time.  We saw his medals, because aunt Laura proudly showed them to us..I knew he was honoured for several somethings, just not what.   The many other neices and nephews had a different relationship with him and may know much more than me, but I can only speak for myself.  In the past, he had never drawn attention to himself in any way, more than any other person.  To my knowledge he was just another man, my uncle.  I know he participated in Remembrance Day services because he was a veteran.  I saw him in his uniform and saw pictures of him in his uniform.  He did not say he was a hero, he did not even hint at being one, or breathe a thought that he was a hero.  I didn't know he was a hero.  But now I do...  By process of elimination, if he was a member of the Black Watch and holds several medals, that constitutes heroism in my books.

As the days wore on in the nursing home, his congestive heart failure worsened and his voice became affected.  That did not stop him from trying to get his story out.  Every time I went near him, his words poured out from the heart and all in a rush.  He had been shot in the fleshy part of his leg.  "Some little nipper got him", is what he told my brother. 

What I also remember is that the Canadian veteran's association was after him every so often to make application for the benefits and monies  they assured him were his due.  I remember him dismissing the whole idea over and over...but never with bitterness.  He just humbly thanked them.  We all encouraged him to take them up on it because in our eyes, all veterans are in our debt.  In fact, no amount of money can make it up to them.  Some things money just can't buy.  Close to the end, I believe he might have started entertaining the idea, but maybe just to appease us. Amazing.

There are others in my dad's family who went to war, but their stories belong to their own children to tell.  These men and women have returned from the war praising God that it was over, but not wanting to colour the lives of those around them with the strife and sadness they witnessed.  They slipped back into civilian life and made every attempt to live it with dignity.  They had to have experienced many days and months of terror and sadness at watching their friends and comrades fall all around them.  They were lucky we think...able to return home to their loved ones.  Yet, they are changed forever and carrying a burden of guilt at having survived and a far heavier grief load at their losses.  At all costs, they have sacrificed everything to keep us safe and free.  They are the proudest Canadians I have ever known.





 

A spiritual and cultural Victoria

Victoria, B.C. Harbour

Over one million seagulls live with the people of Victoria...this is a professional window washer washing the windows on the top of the hotel pool.

This is no easy feat as the hotel is several stories high....my friend was in a room on the 8th floor...Hmm...our tour guide told us no building in Victoria is over four stories because of the Juan de Fuca plate and other surrounding faults and plate lines and ridges....which means there is a prediction that Victoria is overdue for an earthquake.

 

These beautiful boquets adorned the conference tables and were provided from the garden of the one of the ladies who helped organize the conference. 

 

At one time, these totems were located at the entrance of every village and sent a message to those who wanted to enter or who were passing by.  The message said who lived there and if the visitor was welcome or not. 

 

An aboriginal long house near the parliament buildings and is owned by a family who gave our conference hosts permission to visit. 

 

A typical Long House

 

Open areas in the roof allow for blazing camp fire.  Our master of ceremonies explained that the bottom creature on the totem is a grizzly bear and the top is a type of bird that eats people.  He says no one has those birds any more.  In between was where the drummers sat and drummed on what looked like the bottom of a canoe.

 

 

The feast we were served included bannock, elk stew, sweet potatoes, and bison to name a few of the delightful dishes.  Of all the choices, I had pineapple upside down cake for dessert. 

 

Dancers included little children 

 

and even a baby

Walking back to our hotel....inside that tower is nothing but a winding staircase in the middle of the street....maybe just for enjoying the view of the harbour? 

 

Parliament Buildings

 

The Empress Hotel  

 

Harbour craft  - this is where the cruise lines dock.  I guess the cruise season is over because the late night shopping downtown has been scaled way back this month. 

 

 

 

Back to the hotel

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Victoria, B.C.

Victoria, British Columbia, Canada

Inner Harbour  from the window of the Delta Victoria Ocean Pointe Resort and Spa

At Night                                                                     

 

Add caption

Harbour in the morning sun

In the Morning

 

The Empress Hotel  

 

 

 

Butchart Sunken Garden

 





Victoria shares it's heritage with native Canadians and their well known totem poles



 

Sorry folks, I don't know how to get this picture smaller.....it has a mind of it's own!

 

 



 

Now don't for one minute think I know all the flower varieties  

          

 MY FAVORITE OF ALL Honey bees hard at work

Flowers too numerous too mention

 

 

 

 

 

 

These are begonias

 A fabulous walkway

A unique way to showcase all types of ivy

 A type of hydrangea

 

Found in the Italian Garden

The little Tugboat

 Then my iPhone ran out of batteries....