Christmas Eve celebrations included the elderly widow who came with our house
Shortly after my parents, who were displaced persons from the Second World War came to Canada in 1952, my father got a job as an electrician at the Mr. Christie’s biscuits plant.
Next, he bought a two-storey, working-class house in the Upper Beach with a long, long mortgage that he was able to pay off only in his early 60s. The house came with a tenant who lived on the second floor in a large front room with bay windows. The tenant was an elderly widow whose husband had died in the war. My parents happily accepted her because her rent payments would help with the mortgage. While she lived with us, she shared our bathroom, telephone, and the top shelf of our refrigerator. My mother also did her laundry using the wringer washer in the basement.
While she lived with us, my parents invited her and her cousin to join our Christmas Eve celebrations (being of European descent, we celebrated on Christmas Eve.) My mother always prepared an elaborate European Christmas Eve smorgasbord dinner.
As my gift, our tenant knit beautiful outfits for my favourite doll. And each year, her cousin gave me a gift basket of scented fruit soaps: lemon, orange, banana, and apple. This started me on my lifelong love of scented soaps.
When our tenant could no longer manage the stairs to the second floor, she moved into a long-term-care home. Our family was sad to see her go.
Mara Glebovs, Toronto
What I learned about goodwill from my mom's recipe
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In my family, the night before Christmas was as special a celebration as the birthday of the saviour.
Feasting by feeding was my family's rule. My mother Rosa was the major edible goods and service provider.
In 2014, a freak Toronto ice storm caused a major power outage at her home. She was unable to prep the food, so her sons’ families stepped up to do the cooking.
I got lucky. The dish I made — her Tuna Spaghetti Sauce recipe — proved to be exceptional. I was so pleased with myself.
However, when the gushing compliments poured in, my mother took the credit for the dish and let everyone know that she made it!
While, technically, she deserved credit, it was her recipe, I felt cheated. I resented her upstaging me. Ill will began to fester within.
Conflicted by this mix of grievance and love in the presence of my family, I realized that ill will implies choice. So I resisted the temptation to seethe and instead chose to have a good attitude.
Making that choice changed my mood. My new takeaway was that I had imitated my mom with glorious results. She hadn’t stolen credit from me but bestowed praise on me indirectly. I was flattered.
When I looked back, such a seasonal epiphany, an insight, actually made sense. Because the Christian New Testament was written in Greek, some of its key ideas use its language. Thus, the Greek word “eunoia” means both goodwill and a beautiful mind. You don’t need a sermon to get their interconnectedness.
So, bestow goodwill towards others. It’s a magical gift — a recipe for a beautiful way of thinking — that discredits ill will. It transforms conflict into peace on Earth.
Merry goodwill towards all our human family.
Tony D’Andrea, Toronto
I never forgot the generous Christmas tippers
In the late 1950s, I delivered the Toronto Star door-to-door. On Friday and Saturday I went around to try to collect the money, not always successful, but sooner or later people paid.
Around the beginning of December, the paper carriers use to get excited due to the fact Christmas was coming and we would see how our customers would show their appreciation for our hard work. Boy, were we surprised when some were very generous. We delivered their paper in all types of weather and it made us feel appreciated.
We now live in an apartment building and our paper person delivers my paper every morning to my door. When I leave a Christmas tip, it brings back memories of my newspaper delivery days.
Remember your carrier at Christmas.
Gary Avery, Oakville
When Christmas oranges were an annual treat
I grew up near Listowel in the 1930s. Our Christmas tree was a cedar that we cut from the swamp on our farm. One year our tree decorations were walnuts spray-painted gold.
My aunt was a music teacher so we had a piano at home. Ours was one of the first farms to have electricity, so we hosted a Christmas Eve party for the local church. Planks were set on tree stumps to create extra seating in the living room. The church organist played our piano and we sang carols.
The only time each year we saw oranges was when they appeared in our Christmas stockings.
Mary Eadie, Toronto
Thanks to random act of kindness
A stranger came up to us as we were breakfasting at a local restaurant. “Merry Christmas. We have paid for your meal.”
We were flabbergasted. She explained her son survived a near-death experience some years ago. They practice random acts of kindness in thanksgiving.
To continue this, we have donated to the Santa Claus Fund to help families in this festive season.
Thank you to our unknown donor.
Anna Leggatt, East York
Everyone gathered at grandmother’s house
My most vivid childhood memory was the celebration of Christmas in Montreal where I grew up in the 1950s and ’60s. Life was simpler back then. As my parents worked hard to raise three children, my two sisters and I were always grateful for the gifts Santa Claus placed under our tree.
Christmas morning was mostly a time to open gifts. Although I always wanted a Monopoly game and my wish came through, I wasn’t sure why Santa did not give me the puppy, soccer ball, records, etc. that I had asked for. After all, I’d been good!
However, the highlight of Christmas occurred when everyone gathered at my grandmother’s house for the traditional turkey dinner. After the unwrapping of gifts, we played bingo for pennies while my grandmother served her signature chocolate cake, apple pie, and Italian biscotti — a sweet moment in time to treasure.
Looking back almost seven decades, I feel fortunate I grew up in an era when social technology did not yet control our lives. The social atmosphere and mindset seemed different back then when there were fewer distractions and more face-to-face interactions.
I think our human connection is becoming weaker so let’s keep those gadgets out of sight when we eat together or open gifts. Happy Holidays!
Robert Ariano, Scarborough
Mom's baking, eggnog and Pavarotti
I grew up in a small town up in Caledon called Cheltenham. Always very beautiful at Christmas. Maple wood roaring on the fire, a real tree and decorations (including Mandarin oranges strung up with cloves in them). My mom baking like crazy (hermits, shortbread, fudge etc). The snow on the trees, listening to Pavarotti with a children's choir and Scrooge in the dark on Christmas Eve. Drinking eggnog with nutmeg and rum. My mom's famous fruit salad. Climbing up the ladder and ringing the bell on top of our garage. Good times!
I'm the last of the family alive, but I smile at this time of the year and remember. Merry Christmas!
David Hazell, Mississauga
