Christmas stories from readers across the Prairies

Before we take a break for the holidays, here are several Christmas stories from readers.

One reader shares his experience of playing Santa Claus; another shares his memory of an epic train ride; two readers recall Christmas concerts in one-room schools, while two others reflect on time well spent with family.

Playing Santa

Darrell, from Winnipeg, writes:

A few years back in Winnipeg, I got to be Santa Claus for about 200 foster children who were reunited for an afternoon Christmas party with their parents, along with the foster families caring for the kids at the moment.

We did photos with the families; many Moms and Dads had been apart from their children and each other for quite a while, and a few were only released for days or even hours from terms in jail or prison.

I don’t have words.

There were smiles and tears and little rays of hope.

I was wrapped time after time in tender tiny hugs, and I’ll tell you this; everyone should have a day in their life when so sincerely and so often, and by such innocent small souls, you are told the words “I love you”.

Ho Ho Ho.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Playing with Lego

Kelsey, from Regina, writes:

For as long as I can remember, every Christmas Eve was spent at my parent’s house with a house full of family and friends.

I remember one year when my cousin and I were in our twenties, it was late at night, and we started playing with some of the toys after the kids went to bed.

I was building something with these huge Lego blocks meant for toddlers.

The smallest block was almost as big as my fist. Suddenly, my cousin knocked the block out of my hand and shouted, “Careful! Don’t put that in your mouth, or you’ll choke!”.

Everyone within earshot started laughing.

Christmas at the lake

Denise, from Regina, writes:

My favourite family holiday tradition was to drive out to Pasqua Lake at 7 a.m. Christmas morning.

There, we met with grandparents and approximately 20 other relatives!

We opened Christmas stockings, presents together, one at a time, according to age, and ate copious amounts of pierogies, sausage, cinnamon buns, and so much more!

Finishing sometimes at noon, we would recover from the morning’s celebration and head back to town for another huge Christmas dinner!

Always had friends join the party! Those were great times!

Doreen, from Pinawa, MB, writes about how her mom, a teacher at a one-room school, used to use the Eaton’s Christmas Tree Shopping Service to order gifts for all her students. 

Gloves or mitts might run about 40 cents; combs or handkerchiefs about 25 cents, and expensive gifts such as a purse for an older girl might run as high as 60 cents. The Eaton’s staff would pick out and gift wrap everything, labelling each by the intended age group and whether suitable for a boy or girl. All the teacher had to do was write the pupil’s name on the tag attached to each gift.

Read the whole story.

The train from Weyburn to Winnipeg

Chris, from Northeastern Manitoba, shares his story about taking the train to Winnipeg in 1955, which was a 16-hour trip back then during extreme cold.

The adventure started the day before we boarded the train in Weyburn. The 20-mile car trip took all day. I remember that my sister, Sally Boyle, crashed into the back of the front seat when the car hit a hard snow drift. Sally injured her mouth. This was in the days before seat belts.

After a few more miles, the car got stuck, and Dad had to walk back to Colgate and get Mac Kitson and his team of horses to pull us out.

Read the whole story.  

Reverie

Jeanne, from the Regina area, shares her memories of a Christmas concert from her youth in a one-room school.

Cutters drawn by sleek steeds slash the snow’s surface.

Wagonloads of large families, tousled in hay-filled wagons drawn by magnificent creatures with hairy gallon-paint-can-sized feet, coming to a halt as the team heeds, “Whoa, Nellie.”

Horsey smell is everywhere.

The sweaty, steamy flanks and frosty breath exuding from the equine colossus intermingle with winter’s biting air.

Jing, jing, ring, ring, jingle of festive bells, clinking of harness hardware interspersed with groaning horse collars, and the incessant creaking of wooden tongues announce the community gathering for the annual theatrical performance.

Greetings, hallos, backslapping, and handshaking add to the convivial spirit as horses are tethered, blanketed, and given oat-filled feedbags or are tossed an armload of hay.

We enter the transformed schoolhouse into the only theatre that most of the immigrant farmers will ever know.

Read the whole story.