I have so many fond memories of growing up in Newfoundland that it would take a long time to share them all with your readers. I grew up in the small town of Wesleyville, on the east coast of the Island. My father was a skipper of a schooner who went to the Labrador every summer with his crew, that consisted of his brothers and his sons. Every fall, he would return with a load of codfish that had to be cured; that consisted of washing, salting and drying. Then it was taken to Catalina for money. Everyone helped to spread the fish on the flakes, and run to take it in if the rain came. All in all, it was great fun, and a great life, living there with all your friends and relatives. However, I want to tell you about a Christmas that I will never forget. I guess I was around six or seven years old, and things were starting to get done for the season. Of course, my mother wanted to know what Santa Claus was bringing me this year. I really didn't know what I wanted to ask for, but she suggested I write a note to Santa and put it in the fireplace so that he would be sure to get it (We were one of the lucky families; we had a fireplace in our living room). So I sat in the kitchen and wrote my note to Santa; then I put it in the fireplace so that it would go up the chimney. My dad and brothers thought that this was a pretty good idea. The next morning I was up and ready to go to school - snowpants, mitts, scarf and coat, and whatever else we had to wear to walk through the deep snow and to the school up on the hill. I walked out the back door and, on top of the snow, I saw a piece of folded paper, with "Santa Claus" written on it. I knew right away it was my note, and I ran back in the house with it to show my mother. When she saw it, she gasped, and looked for words to comfort me. Then she looked at me and said, "He must have dropped it out of his mailbag." Naturally, I had to write anther note, and I know he received that one, because I asked for a doll, and lo and behold, on Christmas morning there she was, the most beautiful doll that I had ever seen. One day, I will tell you how she got broken by my brother, but that's another story. I try to go to Wesleyville whenever I can, and also St. John's; my brother still lives there with numerous nieces and nephews, and I enjoy every day that I am there. The Rock will always be my home. I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a happy, healthy New Year. Clemmie (Sturge) Singer   Submitted By: NULL