***Christmas At The Lighthouse***

What are your favorite Christmas memories? My childhood Christmas is seeded in my mind. Dramas and concerts at school, that always included the Nativity story, cutting the tree, tantalizing baking smells, the concentrated effort to be especially good. After all, who wants a rotten potato or a lump of coal in their Christmas stocking? 
Christmas packages began arriving in the mail around the beginning of December, glimpsed once and not to be seen again till Christmas morning. Now, instead of a large box, they were transformed into brightly wrapped gifts, presents from our aunties and uncles in England. How that must have broken my British born mother's heart each year, bringing back her special memories as well. She never let us see her tears,and never spoke of it. Nothing would spoil her children's Christmas if she could help it.  Stiff upper lip and all that! I miss you Mom...


****CHRISTMAS AT THE LIGHTHOUSE****

Christmas at the Lighthouse, 
The memories are still clear
Christmas Eve a mixture
Of excitement, and some fear.
Had we been good children?
Did elves hide everywhere?
The tree stood in the corner,
Every branch was bare!
We'd walk to church at midnight
Holding Daddy's hand
And return back home, half frozen,
Start beef frying in the pan.
Then after we ate, we'd go off to bed
And be too excited to sleep
But Daddy would give "Reindeer Forecast"
And we'd know we could no longer peek.
Up at 5, rush to the stairs,
Where stockings were bulging, and we
Could not understand why we never could hear
Him fill stockings, leave presents, then flee..
We'd clatter downstairs, then stare in great awe
At the lights and the big shiny tree.
How Santa could manage to do all he did
Was always a mystery to me.
He had little children all over the world
And lots of then must have been good.
But the magic of Christmas had me in its spell
I believed what I saw...where I stood!
Then to the presents," Oh! just what I wanted!"
Whether or not it was so
It was new, it was Christmas, there were books, and a sled
Later we'd slide in the snow.
The smell of the turkey, gravy and dressing
Wafted through the house until 3
We'd sit round the table and clean off our plates
Then we'd run to the neighbors to see
What Santa brought them, was it nicer than mine?
Oh look, here's a toy we can share!
Eat fruitcake, drink syrup, and never get full
We were happy, we didn't know care.
My memory goes back every once in a while
To those carefree and innocent days
When "little" was "lots", the gifts were handmade
Back then, at the Lighthouse, in the towns and the bays!!!

valerie

***For My Dad..WW2 Vet***

He stands on a windy corner

His hands can't control a slight shake

But his smile emits warmth, and his rheumy old eyes

Cannot hide what his past did to make

A country still free, a future still bright

Even so, he never will boast

Or even discuss the horrors he's lived

In the trenches of Normandy's coast.

He's locked away terror, and hopes it will stay

Firmly behind his mind's door

But when darkness envelopes him, as it does every night

He relives, in his sleep, that same war

That saw him kill humans, men like himself

Who would rather be far from it all

With a wife by his side, his new babe in his arms

But his country called him, and  he answered the call

He lived in the dirt, on a ship, in the air

His life on the line, it mattered not where

It all was the same, the time ultimately came

When another dear comrade could no longer bear

When the screams became silent and the last sigh escaped

From the lips of the man whose last word was "Mom"

You closed his eyes gently, and silently swore

His death was not wasted, for him you'd push on

This man on the corner in a shrunken old frame

Was once young, had dreams of his own.

That did not include taking Dads from a child

Or leaving young women to raise them alone

.So, what do we see when we walk down the street?

An old-timer, so frail, past his prime?

Proudly wearing a poppy and a smile as you pass

Will you stop, then turn back, and take time

To shake the hand of the bravest of men

And say "Thank you..I can never repay

But I'll never forget, and my children will know

Of your bravery, and why we can say

That we live as we do because of soldiers like you

You sowed crops that put forth great yields

Those who have died, we remember with pride

As poppies blow in Flanders Fields.

Valerie Thornhill

******LEST WE FORGET******

===Island Girls' Reunion===

In July of this past summer, a chance remark between two school friends led to an unexpected meeting of girlfriends of all ages, as the very first ever Island Girls Reunion was spawned.
Allan`s Island is connected to greater Lamaline by a man-made causeway. Back in the day, it featured its own school, stores, and church. Today, it is more centralized, with one school and grocery store in Lamaline, but the church is still on the island, serving its mainly Roman Catholic parishioners.
Together, Ann Haley-Lambe and Valerie Thornhill, and later Ann Walsh Flannigan, gathered the interest of other island girls, using the social network, emails and word of mouth. The response was astonishing, and within six short weeks, the very first Island Girls Reunion was held.
 Starting out from St. Josephs Academy in Lamaline an approximately twenty car Cavalcade was escorted to Allan`s Island led  and followed by the Town of Lamaline Fire Department. With lights flashing and sirens blaring,the brightly decorated vehicles made a grand impression. It also made memories not quickly forgotten. Once at our destination on Allan`s Island, Town Counsellor Les Lovell officially kick started the day with an welcome speech from the town, and a Town of Lamaline pin for each of the 38 attendees.Because of the short notice, several ladies could not alter their schedules to attend, but have already committed to next years reunion.
Visiting with friends, laughing, walks to the Grotto, to the Lighthouse, picture taking, eating, a Remember When session, which brought hysterical laughter, some tears, and a Roast of a  well remembered school teacher  with stories that she never would have believed. Or maybe she would have. At any rate, we missed you Ms Kate Elliott! Maybe next year...
Kate Edwards, AKA Buddywhatshername, had us rolling on the floor as she told us we `ad to be àppy`( complete with music and costume.) The mummers, not to be outdone, entertained with their rendition of The Mummers Dance.
We all trooped to the top of the island, where we made a fire, roasted caplin, ate homemade bread and butter, drank tea from a billycan, viewed the Lighthouse through a fine fog, It was WONDERFUL!!!
Back at the meeting grounds, we discovered we had had a visitor in our absence. A dog had wandered in and ATE THE BOLOGNA!!!!
The day ended with a circle and a singing of `Till We Meet Again`.....and a promise to do this again next year. And so we shall! It is already in the planning!

Oceans Awayyyyy

===is, I admit, a strange choice of a blog name. But it describes exactly how I feel each Fall, when I return to AB after nearly 6 months of ocean-side living. But that's been close to 2 weeks now, and as I get ready for my grandchildren's 3 day visit tomorrow, the wild Atlantic will slowly fade from my mind's eye, and I am an Albertan once again. After living here for close to half my life I should be.
We are blessed, my husband and I! In many ways, but being able to live in 2 provinces every year is something we could never have foreseen. The province of our upbringing has never released its hold on us, not completely. The beautiful island of Newfoundland , while stored in the memories of time for so long, has at last reached out and captured our attention. Our children, and 2 of our grandchildren, are grown and independent. After early retirement, we are free to choose our paths, considerate only of each other. A tiny cottage on the South Coast of NFLD said "Hello" when we looked at it in 2007. Till now, we had not even considered purchasing property in NFLD. We were there to visit our families, but before we left, we were homeowners on the Rock! 
So we go East for summers, leaving in May, returning after Thanksgiving. I have to get every Sunday Jiggs Dinner out of my sister that I can! Then we return to Alberta for the winters. 
I think we are a psychiatrist's dream....or maybe his/her nightmare. 
Alberta in the winter-time? By choice?
"But wait", I say. "Do you not know that Alberta has huge blue skies, and the sun shines almost every day? There is no better province in which to spent winters than beautiful Alberta!"
They don't know....and this opens some eyes to a new vision of minus 30 temps in the west. It rarely dips below freezing in NFLD, but with the ocean winds, and the humidity, it feels just as cold as Alberta does. So that evens the playing field on that subject. The conversation stalls, or moves on to another subject.
Conversely, life on the Rock is second to none. Balmy ocean breezes on most days, flourishing plant life, the sweet  scent of the ocean, the majesty of the sea on stormy days, forays into the country-side for bakeapples, blueberries, partridgeberries, cranberries, beach combing after a rough sea, and what joy to find the coveted seaglass rare now, since plastics and other synthetics have replaced glass floats, etc.on fishing nets.
And to eat cod for supper that was swimming in the ocean only a few hours ago...nothing, but nothing, compares. Well, except for Alberta beef. :-)