A PAST MEMORY OF CHRISTMAS IN THE 1940'S.

     With Christmas season upon us this year, It  seems memories of the past Christmas times come to me just a little bit stronger than they did in the days of my prior youth. Which prompts me at this time, to write a short story of those memorable events.
     Our Mother was a hearty woman, born of pure German stock in April 29th of the year 1900 in Jackson Minnesota.
     She was of Catholic religion and married within the church to our father, John Duncan McNaughton in Eureka, Montana, at the tender age  of  20.
     Our father was born in Glengary Cty. Ontario Canada, with that County being on the eastern border of Ontario and western Quebec.
     He was born to a very poor family of siblings in 1893 and at the age of 14, struck out on his own looking for greater, more exciting adventure.
     He soon got caught up in the beginning of World war #1 and at the age of 19, became a soldier in the Canadian Army as a machine gunner in the battles against Germany.
     Being severely wounded at one point, he survived to see the end of the war in 1918 and worked his way West as a logger and saw filer.
     He met my mother, Ella Jean Beutel,  whom, after her family migrated West, first by train to Kalispel Montana, and then 3 days by horse and wagon to Eureka, grew up and graduated from school there.
      Our father was working near Eureka, a border town, when they met one fateful day there, and together ended up having 11 children in the course of 19 years.
     I say "fateful" because it would lead our mother into the torment of having to raise us all with no help from a drunken husband, who never got over his experience in the Army of World War #1.
     Just think about it; her being a Catholic loyal to her husband and her duty as a mother, having to eventually raise a family of 8 boys and 3 girls without our father's help. She did it through one of the most difficult Eras, too.
     Yet, she made it!! By making sure we got to church every Sunday and asking us to trust in God and pray for help monetarily at home.
     I am pointing out the history of our family to give the readers an idea of what the environment was for us amongst a lot of families who were having it tough as well, through the Great Depression and surviving from it with the help of both mother and father. We weren't that privileged!
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     We always had access to Christmas trees in Fernie , B.C., since both Eureka, Mont. and Fernie were border towns  and only 40 miles apart. They were both nestled in the shadows of the Rocky Mountain range. As a result, spruce trees were just beyond our back yards, so to speak.
      As Christmas got within a few weeks of fruition each year, the spirit could not be held back, regardless of the circumstances. As poor as we were though, along with some basic, hand me down 'store-bought' stuff we always saved from year to year, our mother was also a seamstress, and she put that talent to good use by making dozens of little 3" high Santa Clauses with red and white wool. To me, it was magical as she would sit with my sisters helping and just like that, along with home-made paper decorations she encouraged us to make, the icicle tinsels we saved from every year, the big old Christmas lights we also salvaged from season to season, Bingo!!
     We were in the Holiday spirit big time, and  ready as we could be for Christmas.
     Imagine how hard it was for our Mom! Having the everyday chores of work from before daylight to dawn, anyway! She never drank and never smoked, either.
     Every day was laundry day for her, and all she had was an old double roller type wash machine and a 75 ft. clothes line. Add Christmas to it!!
     For a few weeks before Christmas, workers with our little city of 3500 or so people, would line Main Street with decorations and Christmas lights, making the night enjoyable and pretty as the town folk would gather there, to enjoy the Christmas spirits in more ways than One! (There were a total of 8 beer parlours along with the Canadian Legion, if I remember correctly.)
     The Trites Wood General store was always a Christmas attraction too, with the upstairs floor being more or less reserved for the Christmas season. It was lined with electric trains, that would toot away as they were moving, a Puppet show and a jolly old Santa Clause for the smaller kids to enjoy as they lined up to sit on his knee.
     Fun and excitement filled the air, as Christmas music was on the loud speakers for all to sing along with if we wished to.
     With all the little towns in 20 mile radiuses throughout the Elk Valley in B.C., the older teens would pile into a car or two and tour the other towns who all had something similar to ours. It was a great time to be out and around.
      For the smaller kids remaining home and who still believed in Santa Clause, we would be allowed to pick one present from around the tree on Christmas Eve and open it before bedtime.
     Boy! Did that ever pump us up before we were sent to bed, to supposed sleep and wait for Santa to show up in the middle of the night to leave more presents before morning arrived.
      There were 4 bedrooms upstairs, each with a fresh air vent we could peek through as Santa came to the house, (Paul Kuzner) Ho, ho, ho'ing as he tromped around downstairs and placing his presents for us under the tree.
     We could never get a clear glimpse of him through those darn vents because they were mounted too close to the walls.
      Slightly before full daylight on Christmas morning, we'd wake each other up and storm down the stairs into the dark hallway that led into the living room and the magic tree.
      At this point I must bring up an incident that took place on one of those Christmas mornings when my older brother Jack made it first to the bottom of the dark stairs, and broke his toe when he unexpectedly caught it on a brand new bobsled our older brother-in-law Doug Winters had placed there for us as a surprise during the night. Otherwise, we went on to enjoy the day and rode the bobsled many times after.
      Although we were exceptionally poor, Mom and our older Siblings always made it a joyful one at least.
      How hard Mom worked to keep us all in tow and fed, even though there were times when she would break down and cry silently sobbing by the kitchen window, wishing our Dad would come home, and wondering where the next meal would come from.
      I've got to tell you again, Mom; I haven't forgotten those days and I wait for the day I hope to see you again. But until that day, Merry Christmas!!!    Just sayin'.