Sensible Seniors

Each Christmas I remember the ones long past and bask in the happy and loving memories of days that used to be and loved ones no longer here; the smells of turkey roasting in the oven, just baked Christmas cookies, squash, apple and mince pies, my favorite boiled white onions; ice on the windows and snow covered trees; the real Christmas trees of pine and fir; going to church with the whole family. How happy we were with the meaningful gifts, small or large, and the love we shared with family and friends, and the great holiday foods and treats. Isn’t that what it is all about? While I could fill this column with endless stories of a huge family and many wonderful Christmases of mine, it is always about me, so today, I am pleased to bring you this holiday gift from others.

This first story is very reminiscent of one I experienced at the same time of 1969 or 1970, but I will save that for another time. This is from Ruth Mooney, owner of Briarcrest Estates — “As I am sitting here thinking about memorable Christmases I remember one in the late sixties on the farm where I lived in Canterbury. My older sister and husband and two young children (that always gave me a headache) came to spend Christmas. Needless to say, we got one of those real snow storms that we dream about now. We were snowed in for the holiday and the day after that, and the following day as well.

Finally, we had to get out to the store and the roads were impassable, so out came the old snowmobiles and a couple of sleds, and I can remember seeing my Dad and brother-in-law heading out to go to the Beanstock in Loudon to get supplies. It was the following day before we saw the first plow, but I can remember it was such a great Christmas being snowed in and even more exciting because Santa was able to find us in all that snow.”

This one is from my youngest daughter, Brenda Baer Korach — ”I am now a 50 year old Jewish woman, but that is not how things started. I had a very “normal” childhood as a Catholic girl growing up in Lakeport in the l960s. Christmas and Thanksgiving were infused with much excitement, love and togetherness. We crave each of these feelings.

When I think of Christmas, my strongest impression is the Christmas tree, and, more specifically, the erecting and decorating of our symbol of the season. The tree would arrive home and elevated to its place of honor in the living room. In the meantime, the boxes of lights and ornaments would be recovered from the attic, opened and inspected for loss since Christmas past.

My favorite event was decorating The Tree. I loved holding and placing the beautiful bulbs that had been in the family since before me. A myriad of colors and shapes had been collected over the years. The most special were our own balls. Each member had an ornament made with his or her name emblazoned in sparkles atop a uniquely colored bulb. I can still see my light blue, shining ball and we each found that special spot on the tree to hang our ornament. When all the lights and ornaments were in place, I loved taking time to carefully lay the “icicles” on the tree – a painstaking job when done correctly.

Now that I am older, I appreciate the love and patience my parents showed by not controlling how the tree looked and to allow our family of six to create its beauty. Finally, although my own little family has many wonderful Jewish celebrations and traditions to celebrate, the shining appeal of the family tree will never fade.”

From Mary Killoury Atwood — “As my mom, Louise Killoury was a Laconia City Nurse and also Mrs. Santa Claus, Christmas always began at our home early in January. My mom loved to shop and gather goods which would fill our large porch with all sorts of items all year long to be given at Christmas to those in need. She loved being Mrs. Santa Claus. She made sure that her own children and grandchildren understood what she was doing for others that needed help during the holiday season.

My favorite memory was one Christmas Eve, as we were getting ready to go to church, the phone rang. It was a mom who shared her sad story about having nothing for her children for Christmas. All she wanted was warm clothes, bedding, and pillows. Mom got together all that she had left on the porch, warm jackets, hats, mittens, and we made stops at the Lakeport 5 & 10 and Newberry’s. Right after church we all went to this home where the children were anxiously looking out the windows. We had a small tree we set up for them and Mom made sure that a few toys were put away for Santa to bring. They were so happy and excited. As we got ready to leave, the three little children all yelled “Merry Christmas”. Just to see how happy they were made me realize what the true meaning of sharing and caring meant. I knew I would never forget that very special evening when I took a ride with Mrs. Claus to fill a very special last minute need.”

From Bill Farneth (my son-in-law) — “At Christmas-time my mother always re-infused music into the heart of our family life. Not that there was no music the rest of the year. We all had stints in the church choir, but my mother’s record collection, was all about Christmas: The Mormon Tabernacle Choir, Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians, The Canadian Brass. She played these albums on a stereo system that my father built from a kit. It made her happy every December when the vacuum tubes would come glowing back to life and fill the house with her Christmas soundtrack, “O Come All Ye Faithful, Greensleeves, The Bell Carol……”

I started playing the clarinet when I was in the third grade. My first instrument was rented and my first recital was at school probably in November. That Christmas, a clarinet made of ebonite (an early plastic) a sort of vulcanized hard rubber appeared under our tree. Before the day was over, I had learned to play “Silent Night” on that clarinet. We turned off the stereo. I performed. I think she was pleased. I imagine that she beamed.”

From Dee Baer Farneth, my oldest daughter — “In the 1950’s Santa only made a few personal appearances; he was, after all, very busy. In Laconia, he would sit in a small, decorated bobhouse in Depot Square on a Saturday or two before Christmas. Not all day, mind you. Each child would be dressed up for the occasion. Our parents would drop us off while they went down the street to J.J. Newberry’s, O’Shea’s, or Melnick’s to do their Christmas shopping. It was a safer time and parents didn’t hover back then. Anyway, who would dare misbehave right outside Santa’s door? My brother Rob and I would wait, watching our breath ghost in the cold air. We’d smoke candy cigarettes hoping to shock someone. We would fidget a lot,checking and rechecking our short wish lists.

Of course, I barely remember the individual gifts I whispered to Santa in the privacy of that little bobhouse. I do remember though childhood’s anticipation, the snow, ribbon candy, the lights outside the homes, the candle-lights, “It came upon the midnight clear” sung at church, bells ringing, the smell of pine in our living rooms, and the sense that for a little while, everything was possible.”

There are so many memories we all have and so many of them are the same but each one remembers a different thing the most and I hope you have enjoyed these as much as I have. If you have favorite memories, put them down on paper and give them to your family so they too can share them with their children, and their children’s children.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

— By Brenda Baer, Friends, and Family