Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Monday, December 7, 2020

New-ish Traditions

 


We moved away from kith and kin in 1983,

‘Twas not an easy time for us, I know you will agree…

Cause our traditions then depended on those fam’ly ties,

And eating, playing games and FUN (and all that word implies),

But work would call us northward. So for years we made the hike,

At Christmas time o’er icy roads with all our toys and tykes.

And then that year. The mercury, at minus 40, stopped,

And Husby found just what it’s like to drive a curling rock…

With all six kids (and packages) in blankets in the back,

All praying for a little warmth before they outright cracked!

T’was at that moment, we decided for our fam’ly’s good,

We would start our own traditions—staying where we should.

With new PJ’s on Christmas eve and pasta for the meal,

Rummoli and assorted games; and movies for the ‘feels’,

Christmas Bears and other baking, gifts beneath our tree,

And visiting beside the fire with choc-o-late or tea.

Then Christmas morning, trying to drag their dad out of the sack,

Avoiding traps and crafty tricks (assured to give flashbacks),

When finally, he had arrived, to the tree they all would scoot,

Then tearing, and excitement and “Just look at all my loot!”

Eggs Benedict for breakfast and then visiting until,

The turkey dinner, guaranteed all empty spots to fill,

More games and puzzles all together while we would digest,

With talk and laughter constantly and feeling mighty blessed.

Each year, our family has grown, with chicks and chicklets, too,

And now there’s over thirty gather (yes, it’s quite a crew!),

And sometimes when it’s quiet, which I must admit, is rare,

I’m glad we are at home, instead of taking things elsewhere,

And have we been successful in creating ‘fun’ our own?

Now our kids pack their tykes and toys and join us here at home!

 


Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,

With POETRY, we all besought,

To try to make the week begin

With pleasant thoughts…

Perhaps a grin?

So JennyCharlotteMimi, Me

Have crafted poems for you to see.

And now you’ve read what we have wrought…

Did we help?

Or did we not?

 

Next week, some joy we hope to spread,

With houses out of gingerbread!

 

16 comments:

  1. Precious, precious memories.
    And seeing your new pyjamas has been a treat for me in years gone by.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much, EC! I confess, it's one of my favourite Christmas traditions!

      Delete
  2. Oh, this sounds absolutely wonderful - and a good poem too.

    ReplyDelete
  3. This is clever! Also quite timely, given the stay-safe-stay-home sitch.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, TAW! Though any form of 'getting together' this year would, inevitably, constitute breaking the 'more-than-ten' rule! ;)

      Delete
  4. Such fun memories, and such a tough choice. Holidays are so much fun with extended family, yet so much easier with little kids to just stay home. So glad you have your extended family right nearby this year, that's perfect.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It really was difficult. All the kids were crying that they wanted to go to Gramma's. Sigh. But they don't cry any more!
      This year, we'll still have to be judicious about having them over--one family at a time. But at least it's doable!

      Delete
  5. You obviously love your extended family Christmas and all the noise, fun, and fuss that it entails. A lovely poem. I'll post mine tomorrow on your blog if that's okay.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. SO looking froward to it, SBM! And I do love all the fuss. Just bought the material for this year's PJs. Green plaid. It'll be great! ;)

      Delete
  6. As much as you love family, there comes a limit to how far you can travel with littles. We were always close enough to travel there.

    Let me know when you are running out of ideas. Maybe after the new year we could do least favorite chores, or the best car you ever drove. How about craziest vacation memory. Watermelon. Favorite word that starts with the letter "D." Just coming up with things that might spark ideas, thinking out loud, so to speak.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yep. Six hours got longer and longer, the colder the weather!
      Ohmyword, these are ALL awesome! Keep 'em coming Mimi! We'll use them all! <3

      Delete
  7. Some good ideas there, Mimi. here's my poem for this week, based on a lovely article in'Landscape' magazine, December issue:

    An Advent Tradition

    In the village of Askrigg, in Yorkshire,
    They have an Advent tradition.
    Homes choose an Advent Day number
    Then each household is on a mission
    To create its own Advent window
    To be lit up from behind.
    Aspects of Christmas is the theme;
    It doesn’t matter what kind.

    There are windows depicting Santa
    There are robins and angels galore
    There are puppies wearing Christmas hats
    There’s a holly wreath on a door.
    Some households favour reindeer
    Or the traditional nativity
    With donkeys, mangers, shepherds and kings
    Lit up for all to see.

    As daylight fades on late afternoons
    Old and young from the village will gather
    To follow a trail that leads past all these windows
    Where they will stop to gaze and to chatter.
    The spirit of Christmas descends on the village
    In those twenty four days of Advent
    And visitors come from near and afar
    To witness this festive event.

    ‘Cos it’s the community spirit of Askrigg
    That’s the real wonder for folk to behold
    Where greetings and laughter and hugs and good wishes
    Are exchanged ‘twixt the young and the old.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. This. Is. Awesome! What an amazing tradition. And beautifully stitched into a poem. Well done!

      Delete
    2. Thank you, Diane. The hard work was really already done for me by the excellent magazine article. I'm going to struggle with the Gingerbread House theme!

      Delete
    3. What a precious tradition! How i wish i could see it.

      Delete

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