Christmas at 15 Cook Street
By Derm Corbett Christmas memories of old Cook Street warm our hearts every December. Close your eyes! Is that Mike Dooley laying canvas in the old kitchen? He'll get a haircut in return and he and dad will celebrate the finished product with a beer. Boy, is Mike ever sweating! Got to get any needed painting done before the canvas goes down; hate painting those kitchen chairs. Mom has been baking for weeks, snowballs are my favourite. I think I saw some taffy on the old nail in the back room so maybe there'll be bullseyes! Dad and Uncle Val are gone to get the tree. We have to have a giant because the ceiling in the upstairs living room is so high. Mom has been putting children's gifts on layaway for weeks and picking them up when she could afford. Now she has to find hiding places! It's time to get the decorations from the boxes in the loft at the top of the stairs. Don't forget Uncle Jack's nativity set. Floors got to be scrubbed and waxed. There's half a ton of coal to be shoveled into the coal pound. Dad is back with the tree and we watch as it's dragged into the spotless living room. It smells wonderful but once it's tied into the corner we won't see it again till Christmas Eve. The hook goes on the door! Did you see the size of the turkey thawing out on the basement window ledge? Time's getting close, wash is done, clean clothes for Christmas Eve mass, got to get washed all over first! Home from church, take the hook off the living room door, there's the great tree still bare. We'll now hang out nylon stockings beside the old fireplace; the updraft threatens to carry them all up the chimney. Finally, up the stairs with the old coal stove glowing and lighting the way. Sleep won't come! Sounds like activity downstairs but you dare not move. Finally morning! Mom, and mom alone give the ok to get up. Down the stairs, the living room door is open. The tree is magical, fully decorated. Look at the bubble lights. The light in Uncle Jack's Christmas stable is on; the baby is in the crib! The stockings are bulging with goodies: apples and oranges, chocolates, comics, colouring books, it's a gold mine! And besides each child's stocking sits the big gifts: dolls, guns and holsters, games, skates, and clothes. Once again, the magic is real. How, in Heaven's name, did Mom and Dad ever do it? No doubt Mom was the driving force behind the annual celebration. She was the organizer, she handled the scarce money and bills associated with the season; she assumed most of the hard work of cooking and cleaning and she was the one who assumed the pressure of making sure that each of her children the magic on Christmas morning. I don't ever remember Dad and Mom giving each other wrapped gifts when I was a child. Usually it was the winter boots Mom needed or the warm coat Dad couldn't do without. No surprises, no luxuries, just the practical. The fact that their children were beaming was more than enough. Submitted By: NULL
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