Reflections from the Swamp
Dear Reader
Today, Dec.21st, is the darkest day of the year. I promise you that the light in your life will grow a little every day for a long time. We’re on this journey through time and space together.
Lately, I’m more aware of how women embody most of the Christmas spirit of giving, and how the whole tradition of gift-giving would collapse like a tent in a hurricane if my bride and the female half of humanity decided to leave the spirit of baking and gifts to the gender shared with Ebenezer Scrooge. Thank you, women of the world, for your thoughtful love and generosity. Christmas would be dreary without you.
There are many advantages to being a retired man, one of which is the free time we have to gather at Timmy’s like birds and squirrels around the feeder. We like to share life, one story at a time. We like to reminisce, solve world problems, and, like our feathered friends at the bird feeders, we want someone else to supply the coffee and baked goods. Lately, I’ve been attending these spontaneous gatherings with Delmer while my bride attends to practical endeavours, such as grocery and gift shopping. Delmer’s gifts at Christmas consisted mainly of yarns or stories embellished with Christmas decadence and embroidered with larger-than-life characters.
Some of the stories told around the table at Timmy’s may stray from the truth or verifiable facts and veer into alternate realities, not unlike Christmas stories. These stories are called yarns. The audience hearing these yarns knows that questioning the actuality of these stories is against the rules and the traditions of yarns and could break the magic spells the stories possess. Words are a living extension of the storyteller. They should be handled with care.
While we told our Christmas stories around the table, Delmer patiently waited for his turn, then brought us a Christmas story none of us had ever heard before. Delmer sat us in a time machine that brought us back to his one-room school with Mrs. McGlocklin in rural Lanark in the late 50s. According to Delmer, Mrs. McGlockin was both the shortest and oldest teacher in Lanark. Her short, rotund figure stands tall in Delmer’s memories. The classroom had a large, old Mercator World Map that showed all the British-held and Commonwealth countries coloured pink. Greenland appeared larger than South America. McGlockin would say, “When we study history and Geography, we only study the important bits, which are the pink bits.”
Delmer told us about the class pet, Ester, a Guinea Pig, that Mrs. McGlocklin claimed originated from British Guinea in South America. She told us that Guinea Pigs were not related to pigs and originally cost a Guinea in British exotic pet shops. In math, we learned that a British pound was 20 shillings, but a British Guinea was 21 shillings and was usually made of gold.
Delmer’s Christmas story starts on the last day of school before Christmas. Eleanor, a tall blonde grade six girl and reliable student, was supposed to take Ester, the Guinea pig, home for the Christmas Break. Eleanor told Mrs. McGlocklin that her family were going to Nova Scotia to visit her grandparents and couldn’t take care of Ester. Delmer and several others volunteered to take Ester home. Mrs. McGlocklin chose Delmer from the sea of waving arms because he was the handsomest, strongest, and bravest boy in the class (according to Delmer). Just before leaving school, Mrs. McGlocklin looked Delmer in the eyes and said, I trust that you, Delmer, will take Ester home and keep her safe. Delmer told her that he won’t let her down.
At this point in the story, it’s essential to give some background to Delmer’s upbringing because it helps to appreciate Delmer’s understanding of the words, Take Ester home. Delmer’s family was fundamentalist, believing in the literal authority of the Bible. His family read the King James Bible daily at meals. Delmer believed in the six-day creation, Noah and the Ark, and the Star of Bethlehem. He didn’t believe in a flat Earth, but rather in an Earth in a Mercator projection, with a huge Arctic and pink areas marking the crucial parts. The daily dose of King James was excellent instruction in poetry, such as the Psalms and Ecclesiastes, and later helped him with Shakespeare. His upbringing taught him to be useful and to do your part to make a better world.
Delmer’s understanding of Mrs. McGlocklin’s request to take Ester home was that he had to somehow bring the guinea pig back to British Guinea, the original home of guinea pigs, before they were introduced to Canada. This journey was a monumental task for a ten-year-old boy with an empty wallet and an overflowing imagination.
Delmer spent an afternoon at the library and learned that ships regularly left Montreal for Guinea; in fact, a boat was leaving in two days. Delmer’s father, Delmer senior, was going to see his brother in Montreal and Delmer’s cousins. Junior convinced his father, Delmer Senior, to bring him to Montreal and let him visit his favourite cousins for a few days before coming home with his uncle’s family to see the grandparents in Lanark for Christmas.
Delmer continued his story, recounting how he had excellent skills in “Hide and seek” and managed to become a stowaway on a ship with Ester the guinea pig, bound for the jungles of Guinea. After sneaking off the boat in Georgetown, some kind locals directed Delmer to a place deep in the jungle where a green meadow opened up into a paradise or heaven for guinea pigs, free of predators and dotted with feed dispensers issuing guinea pig pellets on demand. Delmer recalled how the vast range of tropical birds sang in splendid harmonies that could put the Mormon Tabernacle Choir to shame.
Delmer released Ester to her new home, fulfilling his promise to Mrs. McGlocklin and establishing himself as the most adventurous boy in Lanark for years to come. He, counting on the rules against challenging yarns, claimed that Delmer miraculously arrived home in time for Christmas.
I’m sure you have your own Christmas stories to share around the kitchen table. My favourite is still the original one where the spirit of God becomes incarnate in the life of a newborn child, bringing light to the darkness of the world, pink bits and all, with the singing of the angels and wonders of a starry night.
Merry Christmas, and to all, a good night.
