Glory Days

Back in 1982, when I was 17, I entered a city-wide Christmas story contest in the local newspaper. My English teacher was a great help to me, editing, suggesting, etc. Turns out I came in second in the contest. Went to get my prize and get the photo taken with the other winners, and only then found out that my English teacher had himself entered the contest, and he came in third. He was not in the least dismayed to be beaten by his student. He was proud and handled the inevitable ribbing with good humour. Good guy. First prize went to a retired teacher in the district, a local legend who has a school named after him, so I was in very good company. Anyway, every Christmas my mom trots out the story and foists it upon those few people in this area who have not read it. I'll admit, it is a source of pride for me. The idea, not the writing. In typing it out today, I cringed many times and fought the urge to re-write.

So, basking in some stray rays of former glory, I give to you my Christmas story, for your reading pleasure.

For Tradition’s Sake

The man helped his daughter with her boots. “Daddy,” she said, “I like Christmastime!”

Smiling, he agreed and hurried her out the door. Cold, crisp air introduced itself to their noses and ears. He took the axe off the front porch, felt its blade, then tossed it in the back of the truck.

“What’s the axe for, Daddy?” she asked.

“To get the tree with, silly! Now let’s hurry up before Mom finds out we took all the shortbread for lunch!” She giggled while he lifted her into the truck.

“Where are we going to get the tree?” she asked as she settled into her seat-belt.

“Oh, down near the lake, Amy. Not too far away.” The truck started immediately, as if it were eager to go. Sounds of “Jingle Bells” spilled out of the radio.

He looked in his rear-view mirror at the house they had just left. Memories of years past filled his mind. He thought of the small apartment, with its injured heating system and rice-paper walls. Of the table-top, artificial thing they’d called a Christmas tree…

“Daddy, how come we didn’t go to get a tree last year? We’ve never had a real tree before, have we?”

“No Amy, we haven’t. Last year our house was just too small. We’ve never had room for a real Christmas tree before. But this year, with our brand new house, we can have a gigantic Christmas tree!”

The truck’s engine roared over her giggles, as it turned down the road leading to the lake. Branches crackled under the tires and brushed against the windshield. “Daddy, tell me again about how Christmas was when you were a little boy”.

He smiled. “Well, we lived in a really big farmhouse. Every year Grandpa and I would go out and get a big, bushy tree, just like you and I are doing now. We’d hang strings of popcorn on it, and candy canes too.” He stopped in mid-memory, still smiling. “Yes, it was really nice. We always had a big tree then. But the one we’re going to get today will be just as great, Amy!”

The truck crunched to a stop in the snow. He helped her out and they started on their search for the perfect tree. Dustings of diamond-snow fell on them, both from the sky and from overhanging limbs. They walked through the forest together. She led the way. Although thick, majestic trees stood everywhere, she decided on a small one. “Look, Daddy! A baby tree! I want this one!”

“Are you sure, honey? There’s a nicer, bigger one over there.”

“No, Daddy. I want this one. He’s little, just like me!”

Deciding to abide by her wishes, he picked up the axe and moved closer to the tree. “Stand back, Amy!” he said. He swung at the little trunk.

She looked at him questioningly. “Daddy, how are you going to put the tree back if you cut it down?”

Surprised by the question, he turned from his work. “No, Amy. We don’t put it back. We take it home and it stays there.”

Her eyes lit up. “You mean I get to keep it? I get to have a pet baby tree?”

“No Amy, you don’t understand. After Christmas is over, we don’t keep the tree anymore. We use it in the fireplace to keep our house warm.”

A horrified expression came over her face. “But Daddy, if we do that, then the tree will…die!”
“Honey, when we take the tree home—when we cut it down—it will die then.”

She looked frantically at him. “No Daddy! We can’t do that! We can’t kill him! His friends will all be sad. He has to come back to the forest, Daddy! Please!”

“But Amy, thousands of people do this every year. Everybody has real trees at Christmas.”

A painful expression filled her eyes. “But why? Why do we have to kill it, Daddy?”

Frustration spoke for him. “Because it’s tradition, Amy. Don’t be difficult. People always kill—cut down—trees at Christmas! Now be quiet and let me finish so we can get home!”

An angry taint to his voice stopped her plea. She moved closer to the tree. “I have to say good-bye to him first, and tell him not to be scared about what’s going to happen.” She hugged the fir and began to whisper. After a few moments, she stepped back, looked up at her father with teary, confused eyes and said, “Okay, Daddy. He’s ready…”

That Christmas their house was lovely in its decorations. Wreaths hung on the doors and the presents were mounted around…the table-top artificial thing they called a Christmas tree.

Strange days

Merry Christmas

I could use the excuse that I am trying to reduce my carbon footprint, to be more eco-minded and save some trees by not sending out cards. The truth is I have just been so crazy busy, this is the best way for me to send out my sincere Christmas greetings and to update you on a very intense year.

As you likely know, in early December last year, A left me to return to Scotland for good. To say I was devastated would be putting it mildly. I stumbled my way through the holiday season last year, with the help of friends, family and the pharmaceutical industry. Since then, LOTS has happened….

Upon reflection, I can see that my year was divided into thirds, though by accident or divine intervention, not by design. For the first 4 months I was pretty down. I did my best to not be home, spending weekends in Vancouver with my best friend J and her husband E, who kindly provided me with shelter and refuge. Lots of the usual stuff people do when they’re in shock and sad, you know, sloppy, sappy, messy stuff. My family, friends and coworkers were wonderful, but I am a bit like an injured cat, just want to go into the corner and lick my wounds alone.

Around April I decided to try out living again. To my surprise I found that it could still be interesting and fun, and there really might be a future. Spent the summer in total distraction—lots of trips to Vancouver, some time at Whistler, neglecting all responsibilities (well, not the important ones like work, paying bills or feeding the cats) and just enjoying myself. In August I suddenly made some decisions—cleared out all of A’s stuff and put the house on the market. Was very fortunate to receive an offer after 3 weeks and closed the sale Sept. 15. I spent the next few months selling off furniture, purging all my material goods, sorting through all I have accumulated in the past 7 years.

I applied for some jobs in Vancouver and was offered a position as Clinical Supervisor with Vancouver Coastal Health at the Richmond Child and Adolescent Program. It is a great position, although it means leaving the government, with whom I have been for 20 years. A bit like leaving home, very scary to leave the security of seniority and “the known”. But my pension is transferrable, the benefits are about the same, and although I won’t have any seniority, I still start at 4 weeks vacation, and the pay is substantially better. It is an exciting challenge, as it is a whole new system to learn, new people, a new community. I will not have a case load; I will provide clinical supervision to 10 therapists across 3 teams, and be involved in training and program development. I start this new position on January 26.

So, where will I be living? Well, I bought a condo in Vancouver a couple weeks ago. The subjects were removed the same day the sale of my home completed—December 15, my 43rd birthday, and 1 year and 1 week since A left. It is all I wanted, and just happens to be in the same building as my best friend, so that is an added bonus. It is downtown, right near the future Olympic village, on the edge of Yaletown, east shore of False Creek. The building is 4 years old, has an indoor pool (which I am SO excited about) and is very secure. My apartment is two bedrooms and two bathrooms, just over 1000 square feet, new hardwood floors, gas fireplace, balcony and lots of windows. I am very excited! I move in on January 16. In the interim, the cats and I have bunked in with Mom, and I am back in the same bedroom I was last in when I was 17. It’s all good though.

What else is new this year? Deciding to go all the way with the “out with the old” theme, I traded in my 1998 Ford Escort for a 2009 Ford Escape, candy-apple red and so sweet! Also consoled myself with lots of retail therapy while at the same time selling off household possessions—kind of in one door and out the other. I renewed an interest in creative writing and have been getting some encouraging feedback. I started an angst-ridden, anonymous blog and ended up with a bit of a readership. As a result I am currently co writing a play with an actual writer who has made a living as such and has written and directed several plays across the US. Weird stuff.

So, it has been a very strange year. The best of times and the worst of times. I have learned a lot, about others and about myself. My family has been incredibly supportive, obliging my request to not speak badly about A. You see, despite what he did, I have not been angry with him. I want only the best for him, and truly hope he can find the happiness that has eluded him. My friends know me so well, they support me when I let them, leave me alone when I need to be. I have met some amazing people over the year who have been encouraging and provided me with an optimistic alternative to what I had previously thought would be my future. It is comforting to know that others have “gone before me” in terms of this particular life crisis, and have survived. And in the midst of this historic downturn in the world’s economy I have bought a condo in downtown Vancouver, a brand new vehicle and am starting a job that pays more money. I’ve always been a bit out of sync with everyone else…

With that, I would like to thank everyone for their support, love and friendship, and to wish you a very happy Christmas and an amazing 2009. I, on the other hand, am wishing myself a comparatively calm and unexciting New Year.

Love Susie (and Peaches & Cromwell)