Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2012-51

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IN THIS ISSUE

• Marion Cronk remembers Christmas in the wilds of Ontario
• Verda Cook shares lessons from a dog
• Pat Moore sends a hint about cooking the seasonal turkey
• Catherine Nesbitt writes about pets visiting Santa
• Tom Williamson forwards an example of senior ingenuity
• Here is the real story of the night before Christmas
• Speaking of cooking, the editor shares a favourite recipe
• Sites are suggested by Bruce Galway, Catherine Nesbitt, Gerrit deLeeuw, and Tom Williamson

Marion Cronk writes about a Christmas past:

LIFE IN THE COUNTRY

I was born and bred a city girl. I liked being a city girl. Even the perils of short vacations in the wilds of Georgian Bay were cushioned by a father who understood how to pamper his citified "girls". So it seemed a crushing blow in 1952 to be forced to suffer the isolation of a Northern Ontario railway town - Hornepayne, population 1,500. I was holding my 18-month-old daughter, Corinne, in my arms as I stepped from that CNR passenger train into Hornepayne for the first time. Corinne started to cry. Way deep inside, I did too.

Although it was for a period of six years only, I believe I grew up in Hornepayne. At that time, we had no TV and could receive radio signals from CBC only. I was forced to cook and bake on a wood stove and to wash clothes on a scrub board. It was an amusing sight to watch me hang the laundry in winter as it was frozen before it got to the line. The town had a very ineffective generator for sporadic electricity, so we used oil lamps a lot.

When the water pump under our old log cabin worked, our water supply was pumped from the creek in our back yard. If the pump was out of order, we used the old "carry the water pail" method. In the spring, as the permafrost came out of the ground, our house was surrounded by water, and we had to use a rowboat to go to town for supplies. In black fly season, I placed a nylon stocking over my daughter´s head so she could go outside to play without too much bleeding. And one had to be toughened a bit by those 45-degrees-below-zero winter days when the oil space heater froze up - not to mention one´s nose and nether extremities.

But I remember with most clarity the endless menacing wilderness which seemed to imprison me.

Snowfall was generally heavy in that part of the country. It was not unusual to experience soft layers of the white stuff to six feet or more, especially in the forested areas. There was a lot of shovelling going on around our house, on our road to town, and also on our creek - so that we and the neighbourhood children could practise olympic-style skating tricks.

By our second year of small-town living, we had adopted a wee, toffee-coloured, mostly-spaniel dog with angelic temperament. Her fluffy tail always travelled in quick circles when she was excited. We named her Buttons. She skidded around the ice with us when we were skating and licked us when we fell.

We couldn´t leave her behind that December day when we all piled into the pick-up truck on a quest for the most beautiful Christmas tree in town.

It was a sunny day, about 25 degrees below zero, no wind. A perfect day for a visit to our forest. You would expect it to be easy choosing a tree when there were hundreds in view on each side of the road. The problem was that we were perfectionists and nature does shape its trees according to the wind, the light source, and the proximity of neighbouring trees.

That is why we found ourselves venturing further and further from the road. The snow had a light crust on top, but was soft underneath, so we laboured with each step. I am five feet two inches tall and sometimes I disappeared entirely. Buttons was lighter (yes, I admit that), and at times she stayed on top. In the summer when chasing birds in long grass, you would see her bouncing straight up above the grass as though she were on a trampoline. So she was using the same method to move through the snow. We were a jolly bunch, laughing every time we saw Buttons rise above the snow drifts.

We found and chopped down a perfectly symmetrical tree and started to drag it 1/2 mile back to the road. At that point, we realized that Buttons was nowhere to be seen. This started a frantic search which lasted more than an hour before we found poor Buttons huddled shivering in a snowy hole she had made herself on a downward bounce. Then her energy had just given out.

After that experience, she still bounced in the grass, but tended to tread softly if allowed on snowy expeditions. Later, when our tree was up and glistening brightly that year, we all gave Buttons a little extra hug as she swirled her tail - even when she knocked all the ornaments off.

Hornepayne formed many first experiences for me, both frightening and intensely gratifying. Christmas was spiritual, physical, intimate, and neighbourly. It is much easier for me in 2012 to recall these joyful incidents than it was in the 1950s while actually scraping away the frost on the windows and thawing out the water pipes.

How clear are the images! My pre-kindergarten church group making the Three Kings with crooked stars; my curling team sweeping with tinselled brooms; our own Buttons with her antlers on; Santa stuffed with my home-sewn pillows; front door unlocked and endless coffee on the stove; Corinne´s bright eyes on Christmas morning! And of course, many Christmas trees.

Verda Cook writes: I received the following from a friend some time ago and have it up on the refrigerator door as a reminder to slow down. I thought I would share this with your readers as it could be a stress reliever during this hectic Christmas season:

LESSONS FROM A DOG

1. Never pass up an opportunity to go for a joy ride.

2. Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.

3. When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

4. When it´s in your best interest, always practice obedience.

5. Enjoy it when someone wants to rub your tummy.

6. Take naps and always stretch before rising.

7. Run, Romp, and play daily.

8. Eat with gusto and enthusiasm.

9. Be loyal.

10. Never pretend to be something you´re not.

11. If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

12. When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close and nuzzle them gently.

13. Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

14. Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

15. Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

16. On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shade tree.

17. When you are happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

18. No matter how often you are criticized, don´t buy into the guilt thing and pout. Run back and make friends.

Pat Moore, who I am sad to report is back in hospital after being involved in a serious car accident, sends this poem with an implied warning for cooks:

THE TURKEY SHOT OUT OF THE OVEN

The turkey shot out of the oven
and rocketed into the air,
it knocked every plate off the table
and partly demolished a chair.

It ricocheted into a corner
and burst with a deafening BOOM,
then splattered all over the kitchen,
completely obscuring the room.

It stuck to the walls and the windows,
it totally coated the floor,
there was turkey attached to the ceiling,
were there´d never been turkey before.

It blanketed every appliance,
it smeared every saucer and bowl,
there wasn´t a way I could stop it,
that turkey was out of control.

I scraped and I scrubbed with displeasure,
and thought with chagrin as I mopped,
that I´d never again stuff a turkey
with popcorn that hadn´t been popped!

Catherine Nesbitt writes about

CHRISTMAS JOY ON PETS´ FACES

We once took our friend´s dog to see Santa. I haven´t the words to describe the zoo-like atmosphere at the pet store! There were several cats (in carry cases), a couple of birds (in cages), and many, many leashed dogs of all breeds. We were seventh in line, and our cocker spaniel was beside himself with excitement. He has never been with so many dogs at once before.

I don´t know how the picture turned out, but the experience was priceless! I must say that all the animals were friendly; there were no fights or growls from the dogs and no yowls from the cats. I remember taking my daughters to see Santa when they were young. They enjoyed the experience, but there were screaming children who did not want to be there.

THE REAL NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

´Twas the night before Christmas
when all through the house
I searched for the tools
to hand to my spouse

Instructions were studied
and we were inspired,
in hopes we could manage
"Some Assembly Required."

The children were quiet (not asleep) in their beds,
while Dad and I faced the evening with dread:
a kitchen, two bikes, Barbie´s townhouse to boot!
And now, thanks to Grandpa, a train with a toot!

We opened the boxes,
my heart skipped a beat -
let no parts be missing
or parts incomplete!

Too late for last-minute returns or replacement;
if we cant get it right, it goes straight to the basement!
When what to my worrying eyes should appear
but 50 sheets of directions, concise, but not clear,

With each part numbered and every slot named,
so if we failed, only we could be blamed.
More rapid than eagles the parts then fell out,
all over the carpet they were scattered about.

"Now bolt it! Now twist it! Attach it right there!
Slide on the seats, and staple the stair!
Hammer the shelves, and nail to the stand."
"Honey," said hubby, "you just glued my hand."

And then in a twinkling, I knew for a fact
that all the toy dealers had indeed made a pact
to keep parents busy ail Christmas Eve night
with "assembly required" till morning´s first light.

We spoke not a word, but kept bent at our work,
till our eyes, they went blurry; our fingers all hurt.
The coffee went cold and the night, it wore thin
before we attached the last rod and last pin.

Then laying the tools away in the chest,
we fell into bed for a well-deserved rest.
But I said to my husband just before I passed out,
"This will be the best Christmas, without any doubt.

"Tomorrow we´ll cheer, let the holiday ring,
and not run to the store for one single thing!
We did it! We did it! The toys are all set
for the perfect, most magical, Christmas, I bet!"

Then off to dreamland and sweet repose
I gratefully went, though I suppose
there´s something to say for those self-deluded-
I´d forgotten that BATTERIES are never included!

- Author Unknown

Tom Williamson sends this seasonal story about

SENIOR INGENUITY

An elderly man in Toronto calls his son in Vancouver and says, "I hate to ruin your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough."

"Pop, what are you talking about?" the son screams.

"We can´t stand the sight of each other any longer," the old man says. "We´re sick and tired of each other, and I´m sick of talking about it, so you call your sister in Winnipeg and tell her." And he hangs up.

Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. "Like heck they´re getting a divorce!" she shouts. "I´ll take care of this."

She calls Toronto immediately, and screams at the old man, "You are NOT getting divorced! Don´t do a single thing until I get there. I´m calling my brother back and we´ll both be there tomorrow. Until then don´t do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?" And she hangs up.

The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "They´re coming for Christmas and paying their own way."

Here is a special Christmas recipe which I made for many years, and served with the turkey:

CRANBERRY RING MOLD

2 cups cranberries
1 1/4 cups water
1 cup sugar
1 pkg. cherry Jello
1 cup diced celery
1/2 cup diced apples
1/2 cup chopped nuts
1/4 teaspoon salt

Cook cranberries in water. When tender, add sugar and cook five minutes. Pour boiling mixture over Jello and stir until dissolved.

Chill, and when partially set, add rest of ingredients. Pour into ring mould and chill.

Note: I use canned whole cranberries and heat until boiling. I do not add sugar.

SUGGESTED SITES

Bruce Galway asks that you please consider this charity:

For a giggle with goats, Bruce forwards this URL of the goats´ jingle bells holiday performance:

Bruce Galway forwards this link to a flash mob singing Christmas carols at South Bay Galleria:

Catherine Nesbitt believes that this is probably the best slight of hand you have ever seen:

Catherine also suggests this site for a flash mob singing Home for the Holidays:

Catherine and Irene Harvalias both recommend this site for a video of New Zealand children enacting the Christmas story:

Gerrit deLeeuw sends this link to a video of Calgary celebrating being named the cultural capital of Canada in 2012:

Gerrit also suggests this site for a video of a WestJet Christmas flash mob turning a sleepy boarding lounge into the North Pole in 60 seconds:

Tom Williamson sends the URL for a video of an owl and a cat playing together:

World champion juggler, international recording artist, and songwriter David DiMuzio performing his comedy, and juggling to his own original songs:

To check out the features of the "freedictionary", which changes daily, go to