Christmases past provide insight into life's lessons

Experiencing my 89th Christmas brought about a surge of yuletide memories that reminded me how very special my first (remembered) celebration was.

It was in Chilco, and probably about 1933 when I was nearing my fourth birthday. A true depression family, we were poor — as was most everyone hereabouts - and Christmas presents were mostly a matter of innovation. Mama, a gifted seamstress, had made a pretty party dress for me. Daddy had obtained a windfall of small shiny steel ball-bearings, which he swirled in different cans of bright paint — red, blue and green. They dried to shiny, gem-like brightness and were presented in a red-painted coffee-can. I loved them and later enjoyed hours of playing games invented just for them — downhill racers, sailors sitting in walnut-shell boats –and more pulled from my imagination.

But the box arriving from my “rich Aunt” in Bismarck, N. Dakota, was the true magical gift that defined Christmas in my mind for the rest of my life: along with rare (in those days) delicious oranges, was an oblong box with a tag that read “To Valle Joy from Santa Claus”. Clueless, I carefully opened it and Lo and Behold it was Shirley Temple in her red –dotted organdy dress! The child actress who had stolen the world’s heart with her curly hair and dimpled smile had been immortalized in doll-form and Santa had given her to me! I’ve been a believer to this day.

Ensuing years offered Christmas celebrations a bit more lavish — especially at the dinner table — and fun gatherings culminating with my final tally of six children of my own. Every year featured dinner with my parents in Coeur d’Alene with the “groaning board” of succulent turkey and all the trimmings, and lovely gifts for everyone . Those happy years ended in a cruel divorce that led to another memorable Christmas.

I had moved to Spokane because I could find profitable work there in the fields of writing and public relations — and was raising my six kids ranging from ages five to 15 — with another Christmas on the way. I was working at KSPS-TV — funded at that time by the Spokane Co. School District — and doing well. Then the Levy failed. The first thing to go was the (then fairly new) public TV and most of us lost our jobs. My new little Mustang was re-possessed, I had only enough (from child support) to pay the rent, and Christmas came. As usual we went out to cut our tree, decorated it, and I faced gift-buying with a $5 bill to my name. No sweat! One dollar bought 10 Marvel comics for my oldest son, 14 (remember, This was the ‘60’s); another dollar bought an adorable poofy tassled cap and gloves set for the 13-year old daughter; another buck got a jump-rope for 10 year-old Grant (who loved it and parleyed the exercise into a love of body-building) ; a Game of India, Pick-up Stix, and a bag of marbles did for the rest and all were perfectly content.

Until Washington Water Power shut off our electricity. In the middle of winter over Christmas! Of course, people don’t do that now, but they did then — and ultimately we all ended up working by candle-light and sleeping together in the big bed to keep warm at nights. I came close to despair in those days, but never let on that all was not well. And something wonderful happened on one of those cold, lonely nights.

The kids were all in bed and I was standing at the sink under the kitchen window doing dishes in water I had heated on the Coleman stove, by the light of the Coleman lantern (lucky I was an avid camper). As I looked into the bushes on the other side of the window , the enormity of it all hit me, and I cried out — “God — I can’t take it anymore!” At that precise moment, in the middle of the night, a Chickadee appeared in the bushes and peeked into the window. It perked and pecked, fluttered and preened, hopped upside-down to look inside and was just generally adorable. In spite of myself I started laughing and said “what are you doing, you silly little bird”? That’s all it took. It made me laugh — and if we can laugh, we’re OK. I ultimately found a great job — and went on to enjoy many more Christmases with my intrepid family.

Upon moving to Sandpoint in 1980, my first property was a great log house on five acres adjoining State Forest land. When I began work at the Bee in 1983, I began a several year tradition of “the Great American Christmas Tree Hunt.” Bee co-workers and their families would drive out and spend the day in the surrounding woods — which held great groves of “Christmas” trees. Some wore snowshoes or cross-country skis, some just hiked in boots . They sought out and cut their choices, loaded them up and then came in for a huge chili feed with hot spiced apple cider or cold beer. What fun! A couple of participants are still on the staff.

This Christmas I loaded the table with King Crab legs and my “famous” fettuccini alfredo withmushrooms — lots of go-withs — and my new favorite Blanc de Bleu champagne. My eldest son and daughter and youngest son and daughter (and spouses and significant others) were here for the festivities while the “middles” stayed at their homes in Arizona and Alaska respectively. Four out of six isn’t bad! All of them enjoyed the front porch Christmas tree, the raucous flocks of turkeys demanding sunflower seeds, and the special gift of the presence and cheer of the resident songbirds at the feeders.

I followed a tip and tossed a few of the Blue Jays and Pine Jimmies peanuts into the chickadees’ seed basket. Sure enough, one perky little fellow hopped onto it, held it down with one foot and pecked until breaking through the shell. What a show. We all loved the action and the trust of the birds. I really think bird-feeding is good for our health: I realized I’ve been smiling as I write this — just as I do the whole time I’m outside filling feeders. If laughter really is the best medicine, then smiles must count too. It’s been another great Christmas.

May smiles and laughter be part of your lives on and into the landmark New Year of 2020.

Valle Novak writes the Country Chef and Weekend Gardener columns for the Daily Bee. She can be reached at bcdailybee@bonnercountydailybee.com. or by phone at 208-265-4688 between the hours of 8 a.m. to 7 p.m.