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| My sisters and I, about 1954. |
I know, it's not politically correct to say that anymore, but I was brought up celebrating Christmas.
Our family always went to church - two days a year - Christmas Eve and Easter Sunday. How many of you did that? Come on now, hands up.
Dad's parents were a strict Baptist mother, and a father that was probably agnostic if not atheist. Mom was adopted when she was seven by couple who had recently moved from Iceland to Canada, so her religious upbringing centred around the Lutheran doctrine. My parents compromised. Any time we did go to church it was at the United Church.
Most years Mom pressured us into observing her favourite Icelandic custom, opening our presents on Christmas Eve after the midnight service. Every year she had great hopes that we would sleep in and not be excitedly rampaging around the house at four in the morning. For us, it was a thrill to stay up and rip into pretty packages, but then in the morning we had nothing more to unwrap, so it was a bit of a let-down.
Kids! Always wanting more.
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| Bralorne BC United Church |
Our presents were warm clothes and skis. Books and hobby items, like a wood burning set for my second oldest sister Joann. Stuffed animals and dolls when we were younger. A wooden bed for a new doll. It was handmade and painted bright blue by Dad. A big candy cane, nuts in their shells, and a juicy Japanese orange stuffed into one of Dad's woolen work socks; the same woolen socks that were pressed into service when we had a cold. Our necks and chests would be smeared with stinky Vicks Vaporub and Dad's sock wrapped around our throats then pinned in place with a huge safety pin.
One year when I was about four, Mom and Dad ordered a red tricycle through the Sears Christmas catalogue. Our parents were out at an adult Christmas party and our two teenage sisters were either working or visiting their friends. My third sister, Judith who was about ten at the time, and I were home alone. It was the early 1950's and it wasn't a big deal to leave your elementary-aged kid in charge of a preschooler.
Judith found the shipping box and insisted on assembling the trike. We played with it for an hour or two, then she took it apart and put it back in the box. Judith swore me to secrecy. "I'll pound you if you blab," she threatened as older siblings tend to do. On Christmas morning our unsuspecting dad spent a bit of time putting my new tricycle together - again.
Christmas morning, before being sent to play outside we had a big breakfast, hearty enough to keep us away from the kitchen until later in the day. Mom wasn't an enthusiastic cook most days, but she really put her heart into the special family dinners. Christmas dinner was centred around the biggest damn turkey she could find, and served with baked sweet potatoes, mashed white potatoes, cauliflower with cheese sauce, Brussels sprouts, peas, gravy, cranberry sauce, olives, celery pieces filled with Cheese-Whiz, and pickles. Everyone, kids included, was served a tiny glass of Sandeman's Port in celebration of the holiday.
Mom may not have liked cooking, but she loved to bake. She typically started the Christmas baking in mid-October. Her Christmas cakes were weighty, twenty-five pounds of dried fruit for eight cakes, and took up to ten hours to bake in a slow oven. I remember her staying up all night, checking the oven every hour and pulling out the smallest cakes in the middle of the night; the bigger ones weren't ready until breakfast-time the next morning. In later years as her four daughters married, her Christmas cake recipe was used for our wedding cakes.
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| Mom making a Christmas cake for a wedding |
Her other speciality was the traditional Icelandic vinartera a seven-layer torte, always seven layers, not more not less. Each layer was slathered with a concoction of cooked dates, butter, and vanilla. Mom preferred to use the more expensive dates instead of stewed prunes, and round pans instead of square. She would wrap the layered cakes in tin-foil and hide them in a dark, cool place, until Christmas Eve, then she would carefully unwrap one cake and generously ice the top and sides and liberally sprinkle it with cinnamon. Vinartera is a rich, filling dessert that will keep for many months. It was a family source of amusement that Mom would make enough vinartera to last into spring, plus shortbread, sugar cookies, snowballs, and squares but we weren't allowed to touch any of it until Christmas Eve.
Does that sound familiar? Did your Mom or Grandmother do the same? Hoard the goodies then put the entire family into a near-diabetic coma with a holiday overload of sugar and calories?
Merry Christmas everyone, and here's to a happier and healthy 2021!
Cheers
Lynda and The Sparkinator
Murder and mayhem. Revenge and romance,
Isla Mujeres Mysteries
featuring Sparky the pure-bred, Mexican-low-rider-beach-mutt.
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