A Christmas Letter, 1942

In 1942, the world was at war, and families around the globe were missing loved ones as they celebrated Christmas. The following letter was written by my grandfather, Dr.Arthur Richardson Brown to his children, A.G., Margaret, Eleanor, George and Ruth ....

Lloydminster, Sask. 

Christmas Eve, 1942

My Dear Children,

It is Christmas Eve. The house is quiet. No excited voices, no pattering feet disturb our rest. And yet---there are six of you, little Bena Mae in her snow shrouded rest in Saskatoon, Ruth somewhere at home, George in England in the brave garb of the Seaforths, Eleanor cheering her navy lad in Halifax, Margaret in Toronto bearing with fortitude the denial of her heart’s desire but encouraging her  brilliant young husband in public service, and our first born A.G. at Ottawa for his first Christmas with Mabel using his fine mind in war research---six whose tiny clinging fingers are forever clasped about our hearts, six whose shining eyes have lighted our many Christmas trees with the “light that never was on land or sea”, six whose echoing laughter still trembles softly on the drums of memory, six gifts of life and charm and hope and love which your beloved mother cradled in her affection and fed with her body and sustained with her unselfish soul. Six of you, six miracles, six demonstrations to prove that love is the secret of the good life, that love is life.

And so despite the miles and miles of lonely prairie, of dark forbidding forest, of weary wastes of water which separates us tonight we are joined in spirit about this family tree and your mother and I once again marvel in the glories and mysteries of life, once again catch the murmuring music of the spheres; for love reaches through and beyond all barriers of space and time; we reach our arms about you, feel “our life’s glow” and watch the twinkling lights of yet another Christmas.

If there is one gift we prize above all others it is the love of our children; if there is one gift we bestow more gladly than all others it is our love for our children; if there is one message we would have them accept and ponder more deeply than all others it is that love is the secret of the good life, that without love there is no meaning in Christmas or living or philosophy, or systems of government or economics or dreams for a new and better world.  Knowledge gives us law and order and system
and the mechanics of progress, but love is what dreams are made of, the stuff of nobility and worth, the warming stream which feeds our lives and brings them to
 fruition in truth and beauty and purpose.

And so my children, on this Christmas Eve, your mother and I once again tender you our gift of love. May it warm your hearts, enlighten your minds, inspire your souls, and direct your steps along the paths of fruitful and happy living. And we thank you for the privilege of being your parents, for the joy you have given us,
for the inspiration you have been to us, for the proof you
have given that life is good
and that all’s right with this world.

                                                With all our love,

Dad and Mother

All of the people in this letter, with the exception of Ruth,
who is now in her 80's, are gone,
but my Grandfather's words still ring true,
and the greatest gift of all is still Love.
Merry Christmas!

This Hoya started out at my Grandmother's home, and has since been divided and shared. It's at least 35years old,  and has blossomed continually since I received my slip two years ago...including this blossom which I just noticed today.

A little gift from Grandma?



These Frosted Flakes are Grrrrrreaaaat!

Every once in a blue moon, you come up with an idea that people just buy into. You put it out there, and BAM! it catches on, ignites the spirit, and is an immediate success. It’s a feel good kinda wanna clap your hands like a little kid sort of thing. And it happened here to me and my staff this past week.


The idea? To hold the 1st Annual Parade of Snowmen as part of the local winter festival that we are responsible for organizing.

What if we have a bunch of plywood snowmen templates made? Then provide them to clubs, organizations, businesses, and institutions for free, to decorate however they want? Let them choose a favourite charity, and hold an online silent auction for the works of winter art, with all proceeds raised going to charity?
And then hang’em from the lampposts in downtown? (author's aside: thus creating the largest mass hanging ever in Canada)
And its thumpity, thump, thump, look at Frosty go!!
So, that’s what happened - except that there must have been some magic in the air that day: all of the plywood was donated, the cost of hanging the snowmen (requiring the services of a tree trimming company and their cherry picker for several hours) was also donated, and the snowmen flew out of here in flash, all 20 of them whisked out the door just about the time they came through the door.
It’s really and truly amazing. And it’s what I love about small towns. When "they" decide something is worthwhile, then you sit back and watch miracles happen.
The Silent Auction is running until Feb. 28th so I'm not sure how much money will be raised, but already, it’s got the entire town talking and I know these snowmen are going to create a lot of jolly, happy souls.

Thumpity, thump, thump, thumpity, thump, thump over the hills we go!

Here's a few of the parade participants...to see them all, visit http://www.pembrokefestivals.com/

 

The First Snow

Several years ago I read an interesting thriller by Peter Hoeg entitled Smilla's Sense of Snow.  It was set in Denmark and Greenland and what struck me while reading it was the many different kinds of snow that revealed clues about a murder.  I'd never really thought about different kinds of snow before, although that's odd for a Canadian who spends about five months of the year dealing with the fluffy white stuff. 
We northern climate dwellers spend an inordinate amount of time talking about the weather. And today, as the first snowfall of the season fell around us, the chatter turned to snow in all its variations. I agreed with the Treasurer who stated firmly that we all love the first snow...until we get to the age that we are the ones sent outside to shovel it. And it's true. Today it fell gently around us, and you could almost hear the jingles warming up to start the bells of Christmas!
The Operations Department Manager called today's snowfall "white rain". It took less than 5 seconds to process that it meant he wouldn't have to arrange for any snow plowing or sanding of the roads and sidewalks, because it was melting on concrete and asphalt surfaces. This kind of snow makes really good snowballs  as it sticks tightly together in your hands, and holds its shape when thrown at your friends or enemies. It's too wet for snowmen, and there isn't enough of it on the ground...which is still warm(ish) and preventing accumulation.

Tomorrow, all this snow will be gone. In time though, within weeks, there will be sugar snow, that is slippery and dangerous on the roads. Powder, which is excellent if you happen to be at a ski resort. There will be skiffs of snow, and crystal snow, and yellow snow. And there will be drifts, mounds, mountains and dumps of it.
 Ah snow.

For today, the sky was beautifully soft and grey. And we all took a private moment and watched as nature blanketed our world with her cold and beautiful duvet.