Christmas in my world was magical. The Sears and Eaton’s catalogues gave a mystical glow to my life. Myself and my siblings would spend countless hours pondering over items we believed we needed and should receive for Christmas. We would make a list.
I don’t remember what kinds of stoves we had, we lived on Queen’s Road in two different houses, that part is a mystery, but Mom and Dad must have pretended to send our letters up the chimney to the North Pole. As children, we never questioned as to how this occurred, which made it so much more special.
I often wonder how Mom and Dad survived our gruelling lists about the items we dreamed of receiving. Mom worked as a waitress in early years and Dad was a cook in Labrador. But yet, with careful lay-aways Mom managed to get most of the things we longed for.
On times off, Mom would take us to Water Street in St. John’s. Woolworth’s was busy with so many people, beautiful decorations and so many toys. The Arcade had a bargain basement with items sometimes as low as ten cents. The Mount Cashel raffle was held for many years. The ringing of a bell outside to bring people in. For 25 cents you could spin the wheel and sometimes win a turkey. Money was scarce but memories were free. This was Christmas to me.
Christmas morning came. Being the oldest and possibly very excited, I was always the first one up to sneak out of the bedroom to get my stocking – the highlight of my day.
We had no fancy socks knitted with our names on them. We would receive one of Dad’s socks. The candy would often be stuck to the tow, but wool and all we ate them.
Our socks contained grapes, an apple, an orange, some walnuts and a can of pop, and a bag of chips. This was worth so much to me. I would eat some and put it back under the tree, sneak back to bed and wait for Mom to get up with that huge headlight on her video camera, turn on the light and blind us all recording Christmas morning.
My siblings would run in excitement to the tree. My brother was only small and my youngest sister was not born at this time. We’d rip open our presents with excitement and glee. We usually loved all we got. We didn’t live in the world kids have now, where presents are bought on a daily basis.
Christmas was about family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. If we were lucky and the weather was ok, sometimes during Christmas we would get to go to Carbonear or Bonavista to see our grandparents.
I remember string tied across the kitchen with numerous cards hanging on them. The stove, you could melt with the heat, but laughter from the homes rang out in your ears.
My nan Moores in Carbonear would fill up bottle and put coloured water in each one in her window. I wish she was alive now to ask why she did this. Maybe we should carry on the tradition.
The children today will never know Christmas as we knew it then. Real trees covered in mounds of tinsel and handmade decorations. The true value of the rare toys we had. This is the Christmas I wish to have again. Homemade with love in Newfoundland.

Linda Moores
Bishops Falls, NL