SC Rewind: A Christmas Message

In this week's Rewind, Robert Smith continues a well-established tradition as he offers his annual Christmas message to the reading audience. These annual offerings are intended to be more about the season than the usual horse-oriented themes. This week he delves back in his own personal memory bank for most of the story in hopes that it will bring back a few memories of how simple life used to be.

Here we are once again as Christmas Day has arrived. Always a special day, set apart from all others. I am hesitant to say it but this year has been like no other before it and we hope and pray that by next year that much of it will be stored away in the "Remember When?" portion of our memory bank. This year we have been asked to do things that are somewhat counter-intuitive to the way we have always observed this holiday. "The more the merrier, stop by anytime, you're always welcome" are all common phrases we will not likely hear this year. There will still be Christmas gatherings, just not quite like the ones we have always known. Enjoy yours.

DASHING THROUGH THE SNOW

Throughout all of my growing-up years my mother was usually quite easy to find. She was likely to be somewhere in the house and if not she wasn't far away, maybe in the garden. In those days most wives and mothers were pretty closely tethered to their home. One slight divergence from her schedule revolving around "hearth and home" included belonging to a bridge club. I believe it all started back during the WWII era; a bit before my time. A group of like-minded ladies decided to form a group of people who were all interested in engaging in a friendly game or two of bridge on a regular basis. These ladies came from diverse backgrounds and I was surprised to find that a second one of them was born in England, a fact I did not know until I penned this story.

I remember everyone of these lovely ladies and "loved" them all. They were all so gracious and whenever they visited our house for the evening it was a special treat for my brothers and sister. They were genuinely interested in what we were doing and gave each of us their undivided attention. A number of them had children that we attended school with or otherwise knew. The routine was that the ladies usually played about once a month from around September until May and then adjourned for the summer. Each member of course took their turn acting as hostess. When the group came to our house we were forewarned to be on our best behaviour and when given the "nod" we were to disappear and not be heard from again. Hard to believe but I think we actually complied!

These monthly gatherings involved a couple of games of cards followed by a dessert (homemade of course) and probably coffee or tea. Once each year a special dinner meeting was held just before Christmas. These get-togethers from what I remember and also heard about were fairly elaborate. They just may have included a glass or two of wine or perhaps even a cocktail. I have no doubt that each of these ladies would have "set a lovely table" as the old saying went.

On one particular year when the annual Christmas do rolled around, the whole evening took on a different format and atmosphere which is the topic of today's story. Since this happened before I was on the scene I am relying on an oft-told account of the evening and am recalling it as it was told many times. I may have had to use a bit of poetic licence to fill in the occasional blank since there's no one left to help me with any details.

The date had been set and the dinner and evening of bridge playing was to be held at the Buchanan farm, located probably about two or three miles south of our Town. Early on that day the hostess made a few phone calls to make sure that everyone was a "go". To slightly complicate matters a snowstorm was in the weather forecast but the thought was that it might fizzle as storms often did in our area or at least wouldn't be a problem. Not to worry, the turkey was placed in the oven and everything else was in place.

As the day wore on, the storm started to materialize and by all accounts it was going to be a major event. By late afternoon as more and more snow fell, the consensus was that the evening would have to be cancelled. The roads were becoming impassible and any travel by car was not advised. Much to the disappointment of all concerned the night's festivities just could not go on. OR could they?

Our neighbour Muriel from a couple of farms over had an idea. She began to make some phone calls to see if enough of the ladies were game for her suggestion. Her husband Blake had volunteered to harness up his farm team, hitch them to the sleigh and Mrs. McLean would handle the driving chores. As the phone began to ring at everyone's home, the gals were all in favour! It was unanimous; the evening would go on as planned.

The plan was to have sufficient bales of straw and heavy blankets and quilts to keep everyone warm and comfortable. As the sun was setting the voyage began, with each passenger picked up in a planned order and approximate time (no cell phones back then). Soon into the trip, one or more of the ladies (their names were never disclosed) quietly pulled out a flask from their winter coats. Aware of the chill in the night air and the possible wintery mix they might encounter, they had planned ahead. The story was told that the further the trip went on the happier everyone became.

As the happy travellers finally reached the Buchanan farm, which was located at the end of a winding road aptly named Snake Lane, the last bit of evidence was tossed overboard. For many years after as we travelled that road in fair weather as a family, my mother always pointed out that the last part of the journey was taken across the fields to the farm; no need to follow a crooked road. Once at their destination Mr. Buchanan (Keith) stabled the team and unharnessed them; all part of the plan.

About 20 years ago I heard that one of the last survivors of the old bridge club, who happened to be the hostess that evening long ago, was a resident in a senior's home near us. I phoned to see if Mrs. Buchanan would like to see an 'old friend' and she of course agreed. We had a wonderful visit and shortly before I was ready to leave she said "Oh I have one more story to tell you..." Sure enough, and I was just as happy to hear it one last time as I had the many times before.

When my mother passed away at the age of 83 many of the originals had gone before her. Lillian and Madeline, two that remained, attended the visitation and funeral. They brought a lovely picture of the original group with them; taken in about 1943 if I remember. We talked about old times and reminisced about a few memories involving the beloved old bridge club. One of the ladies recalled that on a visit to our home the guests were commenting on how nice our house looked. My sister piped up with a cautionary message "I hope you don't think we keep the house this clean all the time!" All of those wonderful ladies are gone now but as simple as it was, the bridge club left a trail of lasting memories for many people.

In closing I would like to wish everyone in the Rewind audience the merriest of Christmases and the best of the coming New Year. My thanks to those of you who enjoy reading my tales of bygone days and for the many who send in comments or contact me personally. You folks make this all worth while. As I have done in previous years, I would also like to thank Standardbred Canada for making Rewind a regular feature of their website. Remembering our past is so important.

While COVID has completely consumed our daily lives there are still many aspects involved with the Christmas season that we can enjoy. Be sure to be in touch with someone near and dear to you by sending them a card, emailing or even phoning them. If you know of someone who has had a recent loss or may be extra lonely, make an effort to help them feel better. I recently went out to buy a new supply of masks and during the check out at the store the manager said "We can still smile at each other, we just have to do it with our eyes."

Quote For The Week: "Follow your heart, it's the only compass you will ever need." This saying was garnered from The Hallmark Movie Channel where we have watched many heartwarming Christmas movies in recent weeks.

WHO IS IT?

Once upon a time Santa Claus used to make an annual visit to places like Mohawk. This jolly fellow may have been Santa on this day but who was he the rest of the year?

Notice he used a helicopter, no sleigh for him. Stay tuned during the coming week to find out the correct identity of Old St. Nick. (Photo from Harness Horse Happenings)

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

As the calendar dates fall this year, this will be the final Rewind for 2020.