NEW YEAR'S 1938........TALL, DARK and HANDSOME beckons 1939

"May Hope  always surround you, Hope kindle and rebound you...."-D. Simone

New Year's Eve 1938. A long year behind. Another year, 1939,  beckoning. My parents did not have much money, but they made it count. I heard these stories from my mother, who also kept a journal.

They had friends galore. Loved to spend New Year's  dancing the night away at the Crystal ballroom. It was their one expense, besides my mother's hats and shoes.

My mother kept a household journal ( little black book) from 1938-1942. She wrote about their Christmas and New Year's , always wondering how they were going to pay the 15$ rent. Some months my father did not work, some months my mother did not work. She worked doing laundry, being a seamstress.But they managed to scrimp and save  from other months in order to get by.

Each December, before the New Year, it was time to stock up on coal. $3.00 to fill the basement. 1938 December rent  they could only give $10, groceries 2$. They would have to borrow.

For the New Year's get together with friends, they paid 95 cents for a bottle of whiskey ( for the first footer * see below) 30 cents for ale and 3$ for new drapes , to make the place look fresh for the New Year.

My mother always scrubbed the house every New Year's Eve. Windows, Walls, Doors, floors. All spic and span. Ready for company. Ready  for New Year's Day. The coal she had  delivered she would take a few pieces and place them outside the front door. In a place where no one coming to the house would miss. 

For the first caller (or footer). Tall, Dark and Handsome, she would say. She told ne this over and over every year. When the friends arrived, my mother would send my father round the outside of the house to greet them. He, himself, would pick up the coal and bring in into the house. He would carry a few coins, salt, the whiskey, and bread, or my mother's fruit cake.

My mother would smile. Tall, Dark and Handsome. That was my father. He was first to enter with the friends laughing in tow. First to bring good luck to the home. 1939  would hopefully be a better year.

Old custom that my mother continued for twenty years after his death.  Only no longer was he there to bring in the coal. Tall, dark and handsome.

For those twenty years, my mother would leave out coal and wait for a visitor to come to the door and pick up the coal. She asked the postman one year. He was a good sport.  The duty then lay with the church elder, when he would visit. He was not tall , dark or handsome, but he was most happy to oblige. They would have tea and talk about the old days. My mother would tell him about my Tall, Dark and Handsome father.

Bennet Buggy 1933

Over the years my mother always kept a few pieces of coal on the front step, hidden from view.  One year, she had the chimney repair man bring in the coal. She wouldn't let him in the back door of the house. He had to come all the way around. She was very pleased. I think he thought it was a bit weird. But he went along with it. She made him carry a bottle of whiskey along with everything else. I think he wanted to take the whiskey home. She gave him a fruit cake instead. 

Christmas  in 1938 would see my mother splurging on Christmas gifts for her brothers and sister. They each got $1 each, mailed to them in a Christmas card. A package of hankerchiefs for her mother cost 15 cents, and an apron for her as well. My mother stuffed them into into a small box, with mints and licorice ,to be mailed back to Bethune, Saskatchewan

During  the 30's  my mother always saved enough for a hat for herself for Christmas. She spent a whopping $2.50 . And a new coat for my dad. A huge expense at $27.45. His Christmas present she had been saving for all year. She made sure he wore it when bringing in the coal on New Year's Eve.

He wore that coat to the  New Year's Eve gala at the Crystal. They went every year; 70cents a person, included a big band dance, and full dinner. A new dress, a fur stole, her best earrings and gloves.  And sometimes the new hat she bought for herself. Friends. And dancing. Oh the dancing! Waltz, Tango, Foxtrot.......cha cha cha!

Years later, the dances weren't held any more. My father was gone. And New Year's  loomed. My mother still cleaned, and scrubbed and made a dinner to rival any night. Just for us. Sometimes there would be friends over. Sometimes not. She would turn on the stereo and listen to the music they used to dance to. She would hum along in her tuneless way. And she would write. Like she did in those early days.

From  New Year's 1938: "Paid 10$ down on a new suit, to be ready. June balance will be 29$ . Davey went on the Princess Louise, for work, Not enough  to pay the rent, so broke a 20$ bill and went to  live in house keeping rooms for a few days to wait for his pay.  It took the rest of my 20$. Will be glad when 1939 comes"

One week into New Year 1939 they were waiting for work still. The coal was on the front steps waiting to be brought inside. My dad  brought that coal into the house each New Year's, till he was no more. My mother said she always  saw him as good luck , no matter what their year had been, or was to be.

And the New Year was always new, and the coal was always waiting for Someone to bring good fortune into the house, along with food, flavour, warmth and good cheer, on the arms of  Tall, Dark and Handsome .

Scottish First Footer Tradition: First visitor, usually someone with dark hair,  ( a light haired visitor is said to bring bad luck) to carry coal, a coin, bread and whiskey into the house.

Photographs 1930's family vintage

 

PICKLED FISH for CHRISTMAS

"Christmas is a time for families..." -Dorothy Koomson

Christmas has always been quiet.Lights. Glittery things. Fire burning on the hearth. Pickled fish. Fruit cake. 

Hallelujahs to the newborn King......from ancient angels perched here and there. Hallelujahs loud and long.

"All thru the long year, the joy  you give to others  is the joy that comes back to you..." 

                   -Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

When I was growing up, I used to stay up as late as possible on Christmas eve. As soon as my mother and father had gone to sleep I would tip toe down the hall and camp out on the carpet in front of the  still smouldering fire, right where Santa would drop the Xmas stockings. 

I was determined to catch Santa Claus crawling down the chimney.

Usually I would wake up in my own bed. I think my parents carried me back to my room. Either that or I started sleep walking.  And when I would go into the living room there would be three big black work socks, stuffed with  stuff. I'd missed him again!   They were filled with candy, socks upon socks, paper for drawing, crayons,  a small tin of sardines, and an orange in the toe. My mother always loved the sardines. She got our share. My father got hankerchiefs and cigarette papers.

I always wondered why Santa always gave the same thing every year.  My mother would open a tin of sardines and smother them on the crackers, first thing, before coffee. My dad would roll up cigarettes. I would doodle drawings  and throw the orange up in the air like  a ball.

After a few years, it was just my mother and I. On those Christmas mornings she would stuff a massive turkey. It would weigh about a gazillion pounds. She would  leave it roasting while we went to church. We'd come back to a house scented with sage and thyme and the cat pawing at the closed kitchen door.

It was always just us. Always quiet. If my mother missed my dad, she never said so. She would set the table with her best antique china, put on the stereo to play Nat King Kole. I would hear her  humming in  the kitchen, trying to wrestle the turkey into submission.

"Freshly cut trees smelling of pine and snow and pine resin...inhale deeply and fill your soul with the wintry night." -John Geddes

As the years went on, there were still oranges in the bottom of the Xmas socks. The socks were a little more threadbare than they used to be. And my mother still had a tin of sardines and crackers every year. One year there was a hunk of hickory smoked cheese to go along with it.

And there was always music. Tons of it. Violin. Piano. Singing. My mother tried to sing  along with Nat King Cole. She couldn't sing a note. But she sang anyways. I used to cover my ears. But she would sing even more.

"Christmas Eve was a night of song that wrapped itself around you like a shawl. It warmed your heart. Filled it with melody that would last forever.." -Bess Streeter Aldrich

She would bake up a storm. Shortbread, fruitcake, Things to eat sardines with, Sherry trifles,mincemeat pie, mincemeat tarts, sugar cookies decorated with sprinkles, plum pudding for new years.Candles and more candles.

The table always set. Not for anyone in particular. Just for us. And a few extra plates in case someone dropped by. Usually the cat sat on the extra plates, and we would feed him turkey and sardines.

"It's easy to forget that Life is the greatest gift of all..." -Karli Perrin

I never did catch Santa coming down the chimney, all those years ago. And years later, things are a bit different. We've moved so many times, and it has always been just us, so Christmas is still quiet. Though most years, I've switched it up and there would be friends coming and going, dinner parties, Christmas teas, caroling. Plenty of time for that, later on. 

Instead of tinned sardines for Christmas morning, I now stuff the stockings with   jars of pickled herring...you should see their faces when they open the stockings.......

Spencer

So Hallelujah, the angels sing. 

                               And sing, and sing, and SING......

"I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all year. I will live in the Past, the Present and the Future. The Spirits of all three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach..." - Charles Dickens ( A Christmas Carol)

 Photographs 2020

PASS the Butter

SALTINE TOFFEE for CHRISTMAS

"Christmas brings out the best in us. So let us treat each day like it was Christmas..." -Charmaine J. Ford

Crunchy, Salty, Butter, Chocolate for Christmas......what could be better.

Grab a couple of cookie sheets. Line with foil. Spray away with the Pam.

When I was little, "Pam" did not exist. My mother would make this on a pie pan. She would butter her hands and smother the pan with butter . Then let the cat lick her fingers before washing up. Unfortunately, then the cat would start licking the buttered pie pan, and we would have to start all over.......

USE FRESH saltines...not ones that have been sitting in your cupboard about twenty years. Fresher they are, the crisper they will be. I've tried other crackers. Kindof yuck. Use the saltines. If you have a cat, don't let him lick the crackers.Line the two cookie sheets like little tin soldiers.

Carve off a hunk of butter...about half a pound. (Don't let the cat lick the butter either)

Dump into a saucepan with two cups of brown sugar. 

Don't make the mistake of using margarine.  Years ago my mother did that. It turned into a greasy blob and had this weird taste.The cat didn't want to lick the pan either.

Start to melt at medium to low heat. Stab the butter ( the fun part) to separate . Do  NOT let it get too hot or it will scorch. One time, we were making this and my mother burned sugar on the stove and it could walk on its own. She called it "brittle" and turned it into a sort of burnt  candy offering. Not good.

"Let the sky celebrate, let it pour rain,to wash away the past years' grief..." -Noha Alaa El-Din

Take the hot, blub blubbing mixture and drizzle evenly over the crackers.

Put pans into oven and bake at 350 degrees for about 6 minutes. Should be bubbling and spreading over the crackers.

Take from oven and dump on a quantity of choc chips. As much or as little as you want.  We used to shave chocolate from easter rabbit chocolates , but found that was too sweet. The semi sweet chips are the best.

Place in oven for a few minutes to melt and smooth over all.

Chill in fridge, break into pieces and store, can be frozen a few weeks, but not more than that. When my mother made it, the cat would lick at  the pieces left out on the cookie sheet. All  that yumminess. After a while we just gave her a small piece when we made it , so she would stop begging.  She liked to crunch on the crackers mostly......and she still licked at my mother's buttered fingers.

"Paradise is something we find....." -Craig D. Lounsborough

                                                               Sweet shy Simon from the hill in a box
 Photographs 2020