As like most people, children and adults alike, the remembrance of Christmas brings pleasant thoughts. I think of Christmas Day sixty years ago, I was around eleven years of age. Of course we woke up in the wee hours of the morning to check our stocking, and then take it into the bed with us to see what goodies Santa had brought this year. In small town Newfoundland in those days there wasn't much. Getting an apple and an orange seemed to be the biggest treat of all. They were a scarce commodity for us.

I always wanted a guitar for Christmas, and I would ask Santa every year, but he never brought one. Back in those days we would listen to country music artists, Wilf Carter, Hank Snow, and then there was Johnny Cash, just to name a few. I would listen to the radio that was up on a high shelf and powered by a large battery. There was no electricity. We were limited to the time as not to use up the battery life. Heaven forbid if there wasn't enough juice left to hear Phil Ryan's daily news broadcast, and to catch a hockey game on Saturday night.

Our neighbour had a gramophone and sometimes he would wind it up and take it out on the bridge and we would listen to Wilf Carter records. Oh how I wanted a guitar, to able to play and maybe sing like him, both seemed to be farfetched. Would Santa bring it this year?

At the appropriate time we were allowed to go check under the tree. I went with great expectations and 'lo and behold' there was a large gift standing there right behind the tree. As I got closer I saw my name was written on it. I quickly opened it, and there it was, my Guitar at last. Needless to say I was overwhelmed with excitement!

I was so thankful that Santa had finally come through, however realizing today, it was my loving parents who wanted to fulfill the desires and dreams of their child.

It was a unique Guitar with the name Stampede and pictures of cowboys on the front. It came with strings and items including instructions to able to use as both acoustic and steel guitar. I made a valiant effort to learn to play. One of our favourite spots in the Summer time was in the hayloft, of all places, with a buddy trying to teach other to play. I never did become a competent player. I didn't learn to play and sing like Wilf, but it was fun trying. I still have the Guitar, it's string less now, as shown in the picture - I'm thinking much to the delight of all my family and friends!

So Merry Christmas to all the Downhome Magazine readers - hoping your dream gift will arrive this year.


  Submitted By: Calvin Perry