The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

Rd Let us all give thanks for the many blessings we enjoy. TOM ARMSTRONG SEPTIC & HOLDING TANK SERVICE Christmas Never Goes Out of Style In the spirit of peace and and joy, we offer greetings and thanks to each of you. @ @ ® @ ® @® TOM. SHARRON & FAMILY @ @ ® i ® & @ RICK LAROCQUE ELECTRIC We will be CLOSED December 24th to January 3rd, 1991 by Eunice Streeter, Janetville, Ontario It was December in the city, a time when wonderful feelings of excitement fill a child's mind with mystery and happy expectations. Bright little stores along Queen Street were strung with red and greenrope. A candlelit wreath in the window melted a patch in the frosty window. Inside were pret- ty bright-eyed dolls and games, the kind to open wide a child's eyes and dreams for a Christmas morning. It was wartime and Daddy was stationed at Camp Borden. Mom and the three of us kids lived on the third floor of an old brick building with a store in front. There were gypsies in the storefront when we moved in and a kind old man at the back, Mr. Armstrong. His grandchildren us- ed to visit regularly and he made wonderful coconut cream pies. The sisters on the second floor were strange though, eccentric, my mother said. They'd been in and out of the asylum on Queen Street, we heard. Mom used to take us everywhere, always on foot. Sun- nyside and the Ex were a good healthy walk, with a stop at Charlie's Donuts for some day- olds for a nickle, to keep us going. She even managed to take us to the Santa Claus parade that year, and afterward to make our way through the crowds to visit Santa in person, right in Eaton's Toyland. But she got to feeling faint in the lineup and had to find HONOURABLE MENTION PORT PERRY STAR CHRISTMAS STORY CONTEST Warm Memories a place to sit down. Another baby was coming soon. I had helped fold newspapers for pads to pro- tect the mattress. Then the time came, December 14, 1940, fifty years ago now. I was wakened by my mother's pacing and a squishing sound. Mom was walking up and down the hall, making little moans. Later I learned the sound was from wet slippers, her bag of water had broken. My ten year old eyes and ears opened wide, my younger sister's too, in bed beside me. The eccentric sisters had refused to let her use the phone, even bar- ricading the door with furniture. Mr. Armstrong let her call the doctor. I never did see the doctor, but he was black with the name of Dr. White and a housekeeper came with him. My new baby sister had Mom's dark colouring, olive skin and black hair. The doctor, whose marriage was childless, wished he could take her home. Mom called from the front bedroom, "Come and see the baby"...and we unsprung from our waiting position...only to be squashed by the stern voice of the housekeeper warning, "Stay right where you are!" When my father returned from camp and heard what had hap- pened he insisted on moving, right away! So one cold winter day, with a skiff of snow blowing down the street, we carried things down the narrow stairs to a truck. Our new home was the lower part of arow of duplexes, on one of those narrow streets behind Bloor. First the stove was set up and the black pipes, so a fire could be started to warm the place. The linoleum needing thawing before it could be rolled out, so it wouldn't crack...then was slid carefully under the hot stove, be- ing careful to keep the pipes con- nected. Blankets were hung bet- ween rooms until at least one was warm. It was nearly Christmas. Baby Carol was just a few days old, a Christmas Carol my mother call- ed her. When Mom had to go out I looked after my little sister, who was carefully bundled and lay in a butcher basket on two chairs near the warm stove. My sister and brother must have been with Mom, as I was alone when the knock came to the door. There stood some kids about my age, with a bushel basket filled with good things. From Essex School they said. I was overcome, a lit- tle embarrassed and then excited. I think I thanked them properly, I hope so. My appreciation must surely have shown because I can still feel the warmth, fifty years later. The birth of a child, the move just at Christmas time, the courage of my mother and the generous spirit of a class of school children at a time when duty took my father away from our home, left a deep impression on one ten year old girl in the big city. Photo courtesy of Community 10 Showcase Advertising Inc.