Two Cents Tuesday Challenge: Heritage

…..precious gifts from the past

My parents and grandparents lost much during the WWII. When they escaped from the east they literally could only take what they could carry on their backs. Consequently my family has very few family heirlooms. My husband’s mother came to Canada from Ireland as a war bride. She came to this country with a suitcase of clothes and a few wedding gifts from her family.

Over the years I’ve collected a few items from the two families. When I got married my grandmother came over from Germany and gifted us one of the few items that they had saved from their home in Magdeburgh after the war. It was a lovely blue cut glass carafe.

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From the time I was a little girl I remember a very old silver serving spoon that my mother used all the time. No one in the family wanted it and I was happy to adopt it. The date stamped on it is 1909 and it’s got a dent in the bowl. I love it and use it regularly.

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My mother-in-law loved her tea set and when she passed on I inherited it, along with her silverware and a couple of quirky teapots. My oldest daughter helped herself to the teapots and both my daughters inherited some individual cup and saucer sets.

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Photographs also didn’t survive the war. There are a few of my father’s family but my sisters are the proud owners of these tidbits of our family history. My husband’s family on his father’s side who have lived in Canada for over a hundred years have some wonderful photographs of his grandfather and his great grandparents that we have also inherited.

IMGP0030For more Two Cents Tuesday Challenge: Heritage posts check out Across the Bored.

A TV Star I’m Not

….not even a quick cameo

Two weeks ago I went  to see the Steven and Chris show with my friend D. We got quite the workout applauding, cheering and raising our True and False paddles on cue. The entire time cameras were scanning the audience. We never let the smiles leave our faces.

The audience prompter kept telling everyone what a great looking audience we were. Everyone wore their ‘jewel colours’ and were dressed to impressed. After two and half hours we were sent off with some weird telephone gizmo that I’m not sure will ever be used in my home and we were encouraged to watch the show on April 5th when the segment that we participated in would be aired.

Well I was working on the 5th but I was able to catch the show the next day. Did I see myself on TV? No! For that matter there were very few shots of the audience and when there were the cameras seemed to zoom in on the same 5 audience members. Of course they were all young and beautiful women. The overviews of the audience were far away, always on the side opposite to where I was sitting and they were over in a blink of an eye.

After viewing the show via my television I could see immediately that it was not one of the better shows. Maybe, we as an audience weren’t animated enough but the gadget section was a complete bust and the segment with the experts on parenting was pretty serious and somewhat depressing for anyone with adolescent children. Normally the show is very light hearted, informative and funny.

I won’t lie, I was disappointed not seeing D or myself on TV but in the big picture of life it’s pretty insignificant. What matters is that D and I had a good time, had a great lunch together afterwards and experienced something new and different that we can check off our bucket lists.

All the photos are courtesy of the Steven and Chris show.

Cheers!

Coming up on my One Year Anniversary

…. I can’t believe that I’ve been blogging for a whole year

When I started on this new journey I didn’t know exactly where I was going with this blog. It’s taken me in many directions. It’s been a weight loss journey,

My official 'before' picture taken in March 2012 just before I started my weight loss journey.

My official ‘before’ picture taken in March 2012 just before I started my weight loss journey.

In February, 2013, 33 pounds lighter.

In February, 2013, 33 pounds lighter.

a site for reflecting on my past, an experiment with writing stories and prose, a place to share my new hobby of photography, a gallery for my art work and the work of my students, a cookbook of recipes and a journal to experience and share what makes me happy.

Blogging has kept me on track with my new fitness and eating journey. I’ve never felt better (not counting this cold I’m battling) and I think I look better. I’ve never been happier with myself than I am now. I feel that life has so much more to offer and for me to experience. I look forward to each new day and can’t wait to see where it takes me.

I’ve met the nicest people from all over the world. Thank you to all of you who have liked and commented on my posts. You have no idea how much joy I get from hearing from you. You lift me up when I’m not feeling well or when I’m down in the dumps and you honour me with your compliments and awards. I hope some day to be able to meet some of you when I start to travel more after I retire and I hope if you come to Toronto you’ll look me up and we can meet for coffee or share a meal.

Before the end of the month I hope to reach 10 000 views. The month has started off slowly but that is my own fault. I haven’t had much energy or interesting things to blog about because of my cold but starting today I’m going to try to publish every day. There are 23 days left so that means I need about 30 views a day to reach my goal. Last month I averaged 42 views a day so 30 I think is very doable.

I’m delighted with how many people are following me on mamacormier. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that so many people would want to read what I have to say. Just before the New Year I put out a plea to reach 200 followers and a few kind people made that dream come true. Since then I’ve been steadily getting new followers and am currently sitting at 281. Before the end of the month I’d love to reach 300. Any takers?

So where do I go from here? Well, I’m definitely going to continue with my weight loss and fitness journey. One thing that I’ve learned is that this journey is and will be a life long commitment. I want to live a long and healthy life. I don’t want to live my last 10 years as a statistic and be a burden on society. I have too much I want to do and accomplish in life.

I love the challenges that wordpress and other bloggers put out there so I know that I will continue to participate in some of them, especially the photography ones. I’ll also continue to share the art that my students create and hopefully I’ll find more time to create more of my own art. Who knows, maybe something new will cross my path and I’ll share that with you as well. I can’t seem to focus on any one thing so I tend to do it all. That’s just the way I am. I wouldn’t be happy any other way.

Cheers!

Who Knew?

….how much work it is being part of a studio audience

The fact that I came down with the flu the day before probably didn’t help. For weeks I had been looking forward to being part of a studio audience for the Steven and Chris Show and after arranging the time off (that’s another story) I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. I medicated myself with cold and flu medicine and made sure I got a good night’s sleep.

I parked the car in the car park about 1.6k away because I missed the walk with the dog this morning and last night I had to pass on the walk. At least I got one walk in yesterday. After walking back to the car I got a total 3.3 k in. Happy about that!

My view on the way to the studio.

My view on the way to the studio.

Once in the studio, we had to rehearse how to clap and cheer and keep smiling. Do you know how hard that is? The show was entertaining but my friend D who came with me had it right when she said that the hosts talk more to the TV audience than to the actual audience in the studio. At times it was difficult to see what was happening on the floor because there were so many cameras in front of us.

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Between vignettes there were lots of prop and scene changes. During that time staff members from the show kept us entertained with draws, games and interviews with audience members. Chris, one of the hosts, was also sick and I felt for him. He was a trooper but he avoided contact with the audience at the end of the show. All in all we were there for about 2 1/2 hours for a one hour show.

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Would I do it again? I’m not sure I would go back to the same show unless I knew they had a special guest coming. Apparently if I follow the show on FaceBook they make those announcements ahead of time. I would go to different show. I’ve already applied to be on the Marilyn Denis Show. This show airs Friday, April 5th.

After lunch I walked back to the car and I really started to feel achy again and the cough started up again. I phoned into work and asked them to retain my supply teacher so I could take one more day off. When I got home I went straight to bed. I’ve also started my lemon tea and honey regime. Rest, rest and more rest.

I wrote this post last night but didn’t publish until today because I couldn’t upload my photographs. Has anyone else had this problem? No problem today. Hmmmm?

Traditional Irish Soda Bread

…. this bread made everyone happy today 

Happiness Files – Day 8

I was prepared to add raisin and currents to my bread today until I read that traditional Irish soda bread has only 5 ingredients: flour, baking soda, sugar, salt and buttermilk

4 cups (1000 mL) all-purpose flour

1tablespoon (15 mL) sugar

1 tsp. (5 mL) salt

1 tsp. (5 mL) baking soda

2 cups (500 mL) buttermilk

P10007451. Thoroughly mix all the dry ingredients together in a large bowl. Nothing is worse than biting into a clump of baking soda. Make a well in the middle.

P1000746 P10007482. Pour the buttermilk into the centre and then using your hands move the flour into the liquid and mix together until all the ingredients come together.

3. Using your hands gently knead the dough a couple of times until you form a nice smooth ball.

4. Place the loaf on a lightly greased cookie sheet and with a sharp knife cut a deep cross through the middle of the loaf.

5. Bake the bread in a 425 degree oven for 35 minutes. Cool on a rack.

6. Slice and serve with butter.

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Dinner today consisted of a beet, wilted greens, and feta salad. I used the beets and steamed greens that I prepared last night. I added feta cheese, a splash of olive oil and freshly ground pepper and salt. I felt like I was in a fancy restaurant enjoying a gourmet salad.

The main course was the Guinness Irish stew and a dollop of champ (mashed potatoes with sliced green onions) that my husband made. It was amazing.

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Before dessert we took the dogs, Lucy and Frances, for a nice long walk to help burn some of the calories from the stew and make room our fresh berries and cream and hot steaming coffee.

DSCN0004Here are 5 more reasons why I had a happy day today. Bringing people who love each other together to enjoy a meal, regardless of the occasion, is always a happy moment. Sharing food with people who appreciate your efforts is very rewarding. Hope you had a lovely day, whether you were celebrating St. Patrick’s Day or just enjoying a regular Sunday.

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Kevin enjoying a Guinness with his Irish stew.

Kevin enjoying a Guinness with his Irish stew.

Cheers!

My Happy File – Day 3

…. found this great YouTube Video on Simple Tom’s blog

Happy moments I experienced today:

At the start of our morning walk (a happy moment in itself) we ran into our neighbour J. After talking to J for a few moments you can’t walk away without a smile and a laugh. J is one of those people who is always happy and sees the good in every situation. He also has a sharp sense of humour and that twinkle in his eye can light up a room.

J and his partner own a small business in town where they design and manufacture the Buddy Belt, a great harness for dogs of all sizes. When we got Frances six years ago they started giving us Buddy Belts to ‘test drive’. I guess you could say we’ve become part of their consumer test group for their product.

Today Frances was wearing one of her original belts (as a puppy she chewed through her first one after we forgot to take it off) and J decided it was probably time for a new one. K jokingly said something about St Patrick’s Day coming up and the look in J’s eyes told me he was searching his memory for a green belt. Wouldn’t surprise me if one is hanging on our door knob in the next day or two.

The second happy moment took place this afternoon. My husband and I needed to get out of the house so we decided to check out the new hardware store up the street. After looking around for awhile K was need of coffee so we headed over to one of our favourite bistros. Just before leaving I looked up and saw a former student and his mom. I couldn’t get over how tall he had grown.

When I walked over to their table they were both surprised and pleased to see me. EC was 6 foot 3 and very handsome. He wasn’t particularly tall when he was with me in grade 5  but now at 16 he stands out in a crowd. It was good to hear that he was doing well in school and the problems he had when he was in junior school had pretty much disappeared. I love it when kids experience success and are working towards attainable goals.

Yesterday I told you that my husband couldn’t complete the 3 day cleanse with me and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it  without him. I’m happy to report that I completed my second day and it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. As an added bonus the smoothies were even better today.

Did you experience at least three happy moments today? Feel free to share them with us in  the comment box. As you know those comments make me happy.

Cheers!

“They’ll be small!”

….. famous last words from my obstetrician 

Story #6 for Daily Post Writing Challenge

December 30, 1981

When I started this blog I wanted to share memories of my childhood and life in general with my family and friends. Over the last nine months (how ironic) my family has grown to include the blogging community. Today I celebrate the 31st birthday of my twins.

The memories of that day are vividly clear. It’s not because I was going through hours of agonizing labour. In fact with this pregnancy there was no labour unless you count the five separate occasions when I experienced false contractions. Actually the contractions were real but they always stopped just before I was ready to make that trip to the hospital.

Back in late August of that year I was informed over the phone that the results of my ultrasound showed that there was definitely more than one baby in my womb. I must have been in shock because I didn’t ask how many babies they actually saw. The doctor on call did inform me though that I probably would have these babies earlier than my due date of January 7th. On average twins are born 22 days early.

A week later I saw my obstetrician and he assured me that there were only two babies on the ultrasound pictures, although a few weeks later he did question me as to why I was so big. Apparently he was so busy that he completely forgot I was having twins when he made that comment. Once again I wondered how many babies I was actually carrying.

As my due date drew closer I continued to drive the car and I routinely had to readjust the seat so that my swollen belly didn’t hit the steering wheel. I gained a total of 56 pounds but luckily I had lost a lot of weight before I became pregnant and I actually weighed less at the end of this pregnancy than I had with my first.

I loved being pregnant. I experienced very little in the way of morning sickness and all the complications that I was warned about never happened.  I looked forward to each new stage. Being pregnant with twins certainly draws a lot of stares from strangers. My first memory occurred early in the pregnancy when a complete stranger asked me my when my baby was due. At the time I was only 3 months into my pregnancy but I was already wearing maternity clothes. I just assumed that because this was my second pregnancy it wasn’t unusual to show earlier. I remember how shocked the woman looked when I told her my due date.

The other thing that my husband and I discovered was that older people who found out that I was having twins all had stories how one or both of their twins or someone else’s twins DIED. My husband was furious but I didn’t let it bother me.

I was secretly hoping that my babies would be born on Christmas Day. That wish didn’t come true. As the days wore on and Christmas came and went I knew that these babies didn’t care about arriving early. So much for averages. I was so large that my 2 year old daughter could hide herself under my belly and I could use it as a shelve to rest my cup of tea on.

As we got closer to the end of the month, my doctor and I decided to prebook the surgery for my C-section. We always knew that it would probably end up this way unless the babies came early and were small enough for me to deliver naturally. The date was set; December 30th, 1981.

The morning of my surgery I started to feel that things were different. I often wonder if the twins would have come on their own that day or on New Years Eve but I was happy to finally have it over with. I didn’t know if I was having two boys or two girls or one of each. For some reason I really didn’t want two boys. I grew up in a family of all girls and I think I was a little leary of raising boys. I also hoped that If I had two girls that they would be identical. I can’t imagine the conflict that could ensue if one sister was prettier than the other.

As I was being prepped for surgery my doctor informed me that these babies would be small. Famous last words. I was awake for the procedure so as soon as each baby was pulled from my womb they were held up over the drape so that I could see them. The first baby was a girl and I felt a sense of relief. She was beautiful and weighed 6 pounds 8 ounces. The second baby was a boy. I remembered that he was long and not as round as his sister but he weighed in at a respectable 7 pounds and 4 ounces. So much for small babies. I had carried almost 14 pounds of baby in the last month of my pregnancy.

So the day is memorable on many counts. I had two healthy babies, one boy and one girl. My son was the first male born on my side of the family in over 50 years and my husband’s father was happy because he finally had a grandson to carry on the family name. It would be another 7 1/2 years before another child would be born into our family but once the first cousin arrived the other 3 followed soon after.

The miracle of birth is just that; a miracle. It doesn’t matter how they’re born, where or when. Each child is special and brings new life and hope to this sometimes bleak world. Wishing you all a very happy, healthy and productive New Year in 2013.

Just When I Thought I’d Heard it All Before

……my father throws another gem into the story that he’s retold at least a dozen times

Story #2 for The Daily Post’s Weekly Writing Challenge, which is to post a new story each day for one week.

“It was Love at First Sight!”

Everytime the family gets together with my 86 year old dad we are entertained with tales of my father’s childhood, war stories or how he met my mother. This Christmas was no different. In January my father will have been widowed from my mother for 20 years but as with many men, my father needed a woman in his life and he found love a second time.

Dad’s partner, G, is always present when he rallies us around for his stories but when he talks lovingly of our mother I always feel somewhat uncomfortable and can’t help but wonder what goes through her mind when Mom comes up in conversation.

This year, on Boxing Day, my middle sister, her family and I drove to the Schwa to celebrate the holiday with my father and G. Somewhere between dinner and dessert Dad started to reminisce about his life shortly after the war. The first new piece of information that I had never heard before was how my grandfather died. I knew that he had an accident on the job but I didn’t know the gruesome details.

After the war ended in Germany my father’s parents were allowed to stay in their family home which was now part of Poland. Most Germans were sent packing with whatever they could carry on their backs but Opa Winkler was asked to stay because he had a skill that was needed to rebuild the town. His job was working on the hydro lines and unfortunately the pole that he ascended one day was unstable and fell over while he was still on it. He spent three days in the hospital in a coma and eventually succumbed to his injuries.

The other part of this story that I didn’t know was that my grandmother and her two children were then forced to leave their home and were relocated in Bielefeld in West Germany. My father at the time was working on a farm  and had no idea that his father had died or that his family had moved. When he did learn of their fate almost two years had passed. This new piece of the puzzle filled a void in the bigger picture. I now understand why my father left the farm, a job that he loved, and moved to Bielefeld. It was, of course to help his mother and his siblings get back on their feet. Little did he know at the time that Oma Winkler had already found a man who was more than willing to assist her.

My father continued talking about how he moved on and found a great job with an English general as a house boy or personal assistant and eventually made his way to Frankfurt where he worked in an American hotel. It was here that my mother accidentally bumped into my father, looking for her sister who worked in the same place. My father claims he felt sorry for this young girl and initially just wanted to help her out but according to him “it was love at first sight” for my mother. Here was the man who would father her children.

I wish my mother were here to tell her version of this story. I’m sure that it’s mostly true but I have a feeling that there’s another side to this tale of romance.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Just Do It

……I just discovered The Daily Post at WordPress.com

I’ve been trying to hone my writing skills since I started blogging in April. One day before the writing challenge, Just Do It, came out I wrote one of my best pieces ever, so I’ve decided to reprint it for those of you who follow the writing challenges. I’ll try to write another two stories later today seeing that I’m already two days into the challenge and haven’t written anything since the challenge began.

The Best Christmas Present

It was December 24th, 1958. I was six years old. I remember that it was a frosty cold day and my mother was fretting because we still didn’t have our tree. In Germany it was traditional to put the tree up Christmas Eve but Mom had been in Canada long enough to know that trees were sold well in advance of the big day and that finding one at this late date would be challenging. My father, however, the complete optimist, reassured us that  bringing home a tree today would not be a problem.

Early in the afternoon, Dad got into his big black Ford and left Mom, my sister and I to prepare the house for the arrival of Santa Claus. Hours passed and I remember my mother started to worry. There were no cell phones and stores were already closed. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity my father arrived with not one, but two trees.

My mother was aghast. What were we to do with two trees and two spindly trees at that? My father, again, reassured us that he had it all under control and disappeared into the basement with both trees in tow. For the next hour or so we heard the hand saw cut away at one of the trees and a hand drill bore holes into the other.

Weary and smiling from ear to ear, Dad emerged from the basement with a beautiful, full, and perfectly formed ‘Tannenbaum’. Christmas was looking up and we quickly adorned our new tree with glass ornaments that had been carefully brought over from Germany. The electric candles were meticulously arranged and then we were allowed to place the icicles on the lower branches while the adults worked on the upper ones.

Darkness came early as it always has on Christmas Eve and I remember the excitement I felt and the anticipation of hearing and maybe seeing Santa Claus come through the front door in an hour or so. When it was time my mother hurried us into our bedroom and sat with us while we waited for Santa’s arrival.

The knock was loud and resounding and my father opened the door to welcome our special guest. It was always the same greeting. “Ho, ho, ho!” while Santa noisily stamped the snow from his boots. The two men exchanged a few words, loud enough so that we could hear through the door and then as quickly as he arrived, Santa left.

My father called for us to come out and see what Santa had left us. It was always magical  walking into the living room at that particular moment in time.  The candles were lit for the first time, the rest of the lights in the house were dimmed and lo and behold the base of the tree was miraculously laden with beautifully wrapped gifts that hadn’t been there 20 minutes earlier.

Our tradition was always to sing a few Carols before opening our gifts. I wrung my hands as I dutifully sang and my little sister stood next to me with her cheeks flushed, partially due to the excitement and the late hour. The one present I remember both of receiving that night were matching life-size baby dolls. I named mine Barbara. Unbeknownst to us, the best present was yet to arrive.

Our next door neighbours dutifully arrived soon after all our gifts had been opened and we were hustled off to bed with our new ‘babies’. Little did we know that my parents’ friends were there to babysit us while my mom and dad drove to the hospital. It’s funny how I have no recollection of my mother even being pregnant and I certainly had no clue that she had been in labour that entire day.

The rest of the story is how I remember it being retold by my mother and father.

After putting us to bed, with her little suitcase in hand, my mother got into the car with my father at the wheel and sped off to the hospital. At the time we lived in Oakville and my mother’s doctor worked out of a hospital in Toronto. The fastest way to get there was via the expressway.

Before I continue with my story I need preface it with a little more information about my father. My father has always been a very carefree and spontaneous sort of fellow. He was a hard worker and provided for his family but his judgement about certain things was not always prudent. One of those things was how far he could travel on a tank of gas. That said let me continue with my story.

It must have been close to 11:00 at night when the unspeakable happened. In the middle of the QEW the car ran out of gas. I guess after driving around all afternoon looking for a tree my father forgot how much gas he used. Remember this was a time when everything was closed on Christmas Eve and 24 hour gas stations did not exist. I can’t imagine what my mother was thinking as her contractions were getting closer and closer. This baby was coming quickly.

Over the years as I remember this story I can’t believe that my father got out of the car and left my mom by the side of the highway while he looked for a gas station. As luck would have it my father managed to find an open service station and bought enough gas to get them to the hospital. My parents arrived minutes before midnight and about 10 minutes later my sister was born.

The next morning, on Christmas Day, I remember my sister and I climbing into bed with my father where he gave us the news of our new sister. Each year on this day I fondly remember the events that led up to this special day and the birth of my sister….my best childhood Christmas present, ever. Love you Cathy!

Wishing all my loyal readers and followers and my family and friends a very special holiday season, whether it be Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza or Diwali. May you all have special memories to cherish and share.

Carol

Share this:

For those of you who are new to the writing challenges, here is the link:

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2012/12/24/just-do-it/

My Fondest Memory of Christmas as a Child

…. I love telling this story and couldn’t wait till Christmas to share it with you

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When I started blogging I wanted to share stories and memories of my family as I grew up. This story is one of my earlier memories. The details ring clear as a bell for me. It’s like it happened yesterday. I hope you enjoy it.

The Best Christmas Present

It was December 24th, 1958. I was six years old. I remember that it was a frosty cold day and my mother was fretting because we still didn’t have our tree. In Germany it was traditional to put the tree up Christmas Eve but Mom had been in Canada long enough to know that trees were sold well in advance of the big day and that finding one at this late date would be challenging. My father, however, the complete optimist, reassured us that  bringing home a tree today would not be a problem.

Early in the afternoon, Dad got into his big black Ford and left Mom, my sister and I to prepare the house for the arrival of Santa Claus. Hours passed and I remember my mother started to worry. There were no cell phones and stores were already closed. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity my father arrived with not one, but two trees.

My mother was aghast. What were we to do with two trees and two spindly trees at that? My father, again, reassured us that he had it all under control and disappeared into the basement with both trees in tow. For the next hour or so we heard the hand saw cut away at one of the trees and a hand drill bore holes into the other.

Weary and smiling from ear to ear, Dad emerged from the basement with a beautiful, full, and perfectly formed ‘Tannenbaum’. Christmas was looking up and we quickly adorned our new tree with glass ornaments that had been carefully brought over from Germany. The electric candles were meticulously arranged and then we were allowed to place the icicles on the lower branches while the adults worked on the upper ones.

Darkness came early as it always has on Christmas Eve and I remember the excitement I felt and the anticipation of hearing and maybe seeing Santa Claus come through the front door in an hour or so. When it was time my mother hurried us into our bedroom and sat with us while we waited for Santa’s arrival.

The knock was loud and resounding and my father opened the door to welcome our special guest. It was always the same greeting. “Ho, ho, ho!” while Santa noisily stamped the snow from his boots. The two men exchanged a few words, loud enough so that we could hear through the door and then as quickly as he arrived, Santa left.

My father called for us to come out and see what Santa had left us. It was always magical  walking into the living room at that particular moment in time.  The candles were lit for the first time, the rest of the lights in the house were dimmed and lo and behold the base of the tree was miraculously laden with beautifully wrapped gifts that hadn’t been there 20 minutes earlier.

Our tradition was always to sing a few Carols before opening our gifts. I wrung my hands as I dutifully sang and my little sister stood next to me with her cheeks flushed, partially due to the excitement and the late hour. The one present I remember both of receiving that night were matching life-size baby dolls. I named mine Barbara. Unbeknownst to us, the best present was yet to arrive.

Our next door neighbours dutifully arrived soon after all our gifts had been opened and we were hustled off to bed with our new ‘babies’. Little did we know that my parents’ friends were there to babysit us while my mom and dad drove to the hospital. It’s funny how I have no recollection of my mother even being pregnant and I certainly had no clue that she had been in labour that entire day.

The rest of the story is how I remember it being retold by my mother and father.

After putting us to bed, with her little suitcase in hand, my mother got into the car with my father at the wheel and sped off to the hospital. At the time we lived in Oakville and my mother’s doctor worked out of a hospital in Toronto. The fastest way to get there was via the expressway.

Before I continue with my story I need preface it with a little more information about my father. My father has always been a very carefree and spontaneous sort of fellow. He was a hard worker and provided for his family but his judgement about certain things was not always prudent. One of those things was how far he could travel on a tank of gas. That said let me continue with my story.

It must have been close to 11:00 at night when the unspeakable happened. In the middle of the QEW the car ran out of gas. I guess after driving around all afternoon looking for a tree my father forgot how much gas he used. Remember this was a time when everything was closed on Christmas Eve and 24 hour gas stations did not exist. I can’t imagine what my mother was thinking as her contractions were getting closer and closer. This baby was coming quickly.

Over the years as I remember this story I can’t believe that my father got out of the car and left my mom by the side of the highway while he looked for a gas station. As luck would have it my father managed to find an open service station and bought enough gas to get them to the hospital. My parents arrived minutes before midnight and about 10 minutes later my sister was born.

The next morning, on Christmas Day, I remember my sister and I climbing into bed with my father where he gave us the news of our new sister. Each year on this day I fondly remember the events that led up to this special day and the birth of my sister….my best childhood Christmas present, ever. Love you Cathy!

Wishing all my loyal readers and followers and my family and friends a very special holiday season, whether it be Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza or Diwali. May you all have special memories to cherish and share.

Carol