You know that you are a Mom, when it is dark, cold and late in the evening, and you have a big report to finish for work the next day, with flashlight in hand, you are out the door, looking for your child's most favorite, can't go to sleep without it, toy. It was your 3 year old daughter's bedtime and Mr. Clown Bear was nowhere to be found. You knew she had it in her stroller on the mile and a half walk home from daycare. Then it hits you, somewhere on the streets between your house and daycare, was Mr. Clown Bear.
Out of all the toys my daughter ever owned, Mr. Clown Bear was her favorite. It was a gift from her Uncle when she was born. It was a white teddy bear with a cloth body covered in bright colored circles. It reminded us of a clown, hence the name.
Clown Bear went everywhere Elizabeth went. Over the years he would occasionally loose an arm or a leg, each time it would be reattached, ready to be hugged, loved and held again. It was like a security blanket. With clown bear in hand, all was right with the world ..... she felt safe.
Each day I would take the bus from work to Elizabeth's daycare, bundle her up, and begin the long walk home. It wasn't a straight path from school to home, but rather a series of lefts and rights, up and down all these charming little streets, all named after trees. I was going to have to backtrack to the school in hopes of finding this little 10 inch piece of white fur with polka dots. As much as Daddy wanted to help, he couldn't. He would not have known, which streets, where we crossed or on which side of the street we walked. It seemed like a futile endeavor, but with a teary eyed toddler clinging to her Daddy, crying out for clown bear in between the sobs, I had no choice.
20 minutes into the walk, my flashlight picks up something white. It is up on the lawn of a house, near the porch steps. Could it be? I held my breath and walked into the yard .... and yes, there it was, Mr. Clown Bear, a little bedraggled, arm dangling, but otherwise in good shape. I imagined that a dog or even a child had found it and then dropped it on the ground. With clown bear in tow, I raced home.
Daddy had been trying to calm her down with her favorite bedtime story, but I could still see the tears running down her little cheeks when I entered the room. Then there was the smile, the pure unadulterated joy of a child being reunited with her childhood friend. The look of relief on Daddy's face was pretty good too. Finally, she fell asleep, clutching clown bear. Once again, all was right with the world, she was safe. A little bit later, I gently pried Mr. Clown Bear loose and gave him a bath and fixed his arm. Usually I am a germ freak; however, for that night, it didn't matter how filthy the toy was, only that it had been found. A lesson for Mom, "Don't sweat the small stuff".
I love being a mom. True, my daughter now presents me with more complicated matters than a lost clown bear, but they are the usual things that make up a young woman's life. I would never trade a single moment of being a mom. I have loved them all, the good and the painful growing experiences, the boo-boo's mommy can't fix but will help make a little less painful by just being there. It is what moms do.
So Happy Mother's Day to you all. Happy Mother's Day to my Mom. Here is my favorite photo of her. She will kill me for posting it. Hi Mom. (She faithfully reads my blog) But I think she looks beautiful. Have a good day.
I could not tell you what I ate last night for supper, or what I was doing a week ago. But I can tell you what I was doing, what I ate, and how I felt 22 years ago, today, when my daughter was born. I had been out doing yard work. The day had been unseasonably warm and I was anxious to start cleaning out my gardens. Of course, being 9 months pregnant made it difficult to bend over to rake or pick up sticks; however, several neighborhood children had offered to help. The fresh air and the sun on my face felt good after what had seemed a never ending winter. I was anxious to start playing in the dirt and could hardly wait for the next couple of weeks to pass, until my baby's due date.
My husband and a buddy took advantage of the weather to play not 9 rounds of golf, but a full 18. Needless to say, all that walking and fresh air had tuckered him out and he was looking forward to a nice hot supper and relaxing evening. The spaghetti sauce had been cooking all day in the crock pot. It smelled great and we sat down to devour a meal of spaghetti, garlic bread and salad. Mind you, it was a delicious meal, but in hindsight, not a good choice when one is about to go into labor.
I had started to feel a little uncomfortable late in the afternoon and had assumed it was from all the physical activity. After all, I still had weeks to go and wasn't thinking it was time. Since the pain was starting to be rather persistent, we decided to just check things out. We only lived 15 minutes from the hospital so we got into the car and took off. Between our house and the hospital are railroad tracks. It was only after we had crossed the tracks that I remembered that I had left my magazine back home on the table. I had just gotten my new issue of Country Living and had been looking forward to reading it cover to cover. I figured we would have a wait at the hospital in getting checked out and I can not sit still, without anything to read or do, even for a minute. We returned home to pick up my magazine and the new National Geographic for my husband, of course that took us over the railroad tracks for a second time. With magazines in hand, we were on our way to the hospital, down our street, up the main avenue, and over the railroad tracks for a Third Time! Yes, the third time was indeed the charm. Everything you have ever heard about inducing labor by repeatedly driving over railroad tracks is true, oh my goodness yes it is true!
This was the first and only time that my daughter has been early for anything. There she was, absolutely perfect, ten toes, ten fingers, beautiful bright eyes and a smile that completely captured my heart. As the doctor handed me my little bundle of joy, he asked what her name was. My husband and I looked at each other and together answered, we don't know. First of all, I thought that I was carrying a son, it was just such a strong feeling. We had chosen to use both of our Dad's names, so a little boy would be named Joe Lewis, like the fighter. Secondly, we genuinely thought we still had time to pick a name just in case for a little girl. After a bit of discussion, the name Elizabeth was chosen. In the past 22 years I have cheered that name, blessed that name, been proud of that name, and yes yelled out that name in utter frustration, in the manner that only a mom can do, still with love. I couldn't imagine life without my daughter.
Happy Birthday, Sweetie.
Have a great day.
Sherrie
Today, while shopping for the family Easter dinner, I was reminded of a grocery trip, years ago, for another Easter meal. It was twelve years ago. My husband, daughter and I had just returned from up north visiting my family for the Spring birthday celebrations. My Mom, my older sister and my daughter have birthdays within weeks of each other, and we celebrate them all with one big birthday celebration. It had been a lovely time. My daughter, then 9, was very pleased with her gifts, especially the gift of a brand new five dollar bill she had received in a birthday card. It was just enough to purchase a new Polly Pocket Doll that she had been wanting. It was easy to be excited when you were only nine. She had carefully folded up the bill and for safe keeping placed it in her pocket.
Once we returned back to Town, we stopped at the local grocery store to pick up some eggs, milk and whatever else was needed for the following day as it would be Easter Sunday, and all the stores, rightfully so, would be closed. As you all know, going to a grocery store right before a holiday guarantees that the store will be crowded and the inventory low. Having grabbed our purchases with only a few substitutions, we made it to the express line, which thankfully was moving right along.
While waiting our turn, I noticed that the woman in front of us was someone I recognized, by face and not name. She was one of the elderly church ladies that served as cashiers at the Methodist Church rummage sale held each Fall and Spring. (By the way, the best church sale ever, I am a loyal regular customer. FYI Their Spring sale is in 3 weeks.) She always had a smile and air of calmness and was never bothered by the long line of customers, some of whom unfortunately did not display proper manners, cutting in line and even pushing, as they queued up before her to pay. That was why I was surprised when I realized that this sweet lady before me had become quite flustered and agitated. Apparently, she did not have enough money to cover her purchases. It was obvious that she had put together the ingredients for a little Easter meal, a small ham slice, a bag of carrots and two potatoes in addition to a prescription from the pharmacy. It was a new prescription for her and she hadn't realized how expensive the medication would be, more than what she could afford. The cashier was trying to be helpful by suggesting an item to perhaps put back, but really all were needed.
Before I could formulate a thought or action to assist this woman, my daughter, my sweet nine year old little girl with the heart of one much older, reached into her pocket and pulling out the neatly folded $5.oo bill handed it to the cashier and asked "Will this help?" The cashier, at first confused, looked at me for a confirmation of sorts and I nodded my head in approval. The woman began to protest that she could not accept the money. Placing my hand upon her own frail fingers shaking from the stress of the moment, I turned to her and said it was my daughter's gift to her and wished her a Happy Easter. Giving my hand a squeeze to say thank you, she then turned to my daughter and gave her a hug. The cashier finished ringing through the purchase and after applying all monies collected, returned $.18 cents in change to the woman.
Although her birthday had already been celebrated, a few days later, my daughter awoke to find a brightly colored little package on her pillow, containing one much coveted Polly Pocket Doll, a gift from Mom and Dad, proud parents of a very special little girl. This Easter, please remember that it is more than bunnies and chocolate that we celebrate. From my family to yours, wishing you all a blessed Easter Day.
Sherrie*
Image courtesy of Graphics Fairy
The other day while doing my weekly Wednesday night perusal at my favorite store Goodwill (because honestly what else is a Wednesday night good for?) I found a book. It was the red cover that first caught my eye but then it was the title that made it a done deal. There in gold letters was the name Julia Harrington. Now this isn't a name of a celebrity or even a very common name. In the book, it is a fictional 12 year old girl in 1913, but for me, it was the name of my paternal grandmother.
The book describes what life was like in 1913 with pictures of ads for home goods, fashions, houses, cars, groceries and other purchased items. It also details what a typical day would be with school, church or even what movies you might see. All in all, it is a charming little book on its own merit, and even if the name had been different, I still would have purchased it.
Grandmother Benner (Julia Harrington) had died before I was born. I have only seen a few photos of her just as a young bride. I am not sure what she looked like as my father's mother in her later years or what she dreamed or wanted in life. I can tell you the dates of events, birth dates, date of death, how many children had been born and who they had married, and how many children they beget, etc. Back in college, I had researched my family tree as a senior year thesis project. The old fashioned way of research, pre-computer age with its on-line geneaology sites! A moss covered grave stone found amongst other stone markers in a small countryside burial plot could only provide dates and not a story of the person resting beneath.
My grandmother was born in the 1890's and by 1917, had given birth to my dad. So the life of the fictional 12 year old Julia Harrington would have been closer to what my father would have experienced being a child born before World War I, before life irrevocably changed for the world.
You just never know what treasures you are going to find at Goodwill.
I thought I would be better prepared this week for Silver Sunday. It has been a bit of two steps forward and one step back, not to mention having a sick child all week. So here is what I pulled together. Thank you for stopping by to say Hello.
First of all, a thank you to Jill at Gypsy Brocante. She has posted a winner of her fab blackboard trays. Sounds like she has something for next week as well. Please check out her site.
This is my favorite piece of silver. It is a cherished family memory and keepsake. I believe it is a christening or baptism cup. I am hoping that my learned blogging friends can provide some feedback on that. It will still take a polish but I prefer the tarnished flavor of the piece. There is a face on the handle, and it is engraved with the name Annie, my great grandmother. I don't have many treasures from my Dad's family, very few actually exist, so I am thankful to have this.
Not sure if it counts as a Silver Treasure, but my daughter, age 5, in her silver ballet costume, is a family treasure for me.
I don't usually decorate with silver, but I tend to be drawn to shiny silver frames. The mirrored frame is my daughter's (yes, the little ballerina) High School graduation photo, the one next to it is of me, age 2, with my cousin's college cap, and the three little girls are my sisters, with me off to the side, wearing our Easter finery.
One of my favorite little silver frames, holds a photo of my mom on her wedding day. I have also included the silver grapes from my bowl of silver fruit, shown earlier, from my best friend.
Finally, here is an an unassuming silver tray. I just purchased it yesterday from Goodwill for $.99 cents. The tag still shows. With all the wonderful blackboard trays that I saw last week at Silver Sunday, I am getting ready to create one of my own. Thanks for all the tips and tutorials on the subject.
Thanks again to Beth at http://thegypsyfish.blogspot.com for hosting this party. Please be sure to check out her post and all the other participants. See you next Sunday.
Blog Update!!!
Silver Sunday Giveaway Alert
Jill at Gypsy Brocante is adding to the fun of the Silver Sunday Blog Party with a give away. Next Sunday, someone will be the lucky recipient of one of these lovely blackboard trays. Check out her site at http://gypsyfleamarket.blogspot.com. Good luck to all who enter. Thanks Jill.
Already the 10th of January. I suppose then it is only fitting that it is 10 degrees up here in Maine, to match the date. So time to warm up a with a little Silver Sunday glow. I thought we should do a Ladies Night Out. Okay Beth, grab your silver shoes, purses and all your bling, time to sparkle and shine!
For those that are getting a sense of me, you know that everything I have has to have a story. Whatever the piece, be it pottery, furniture or jewelry, it has to have history, whether my own or an older piece that has now included me in its provenance.
This snake bracelet was purchased at a flea market located in an old mill in Brunswick, Maine. Definitely a place to check out if you are ever visiting the State. The piece is vintage and fun and perfect for my daughter who owns a snake, a Ball Python. She actually has collected several snake themed jewelry pieces. This collectible is one of the items on our "to find" list when we scout out flea markets and vintage shops. It does make you wonder what attracted the original owners to these reptilian treasures.
The black heart necklace is a very special piece to me. It was hand-made by my father as an anniversary present for my Mom, over 50 years ago. I'm not sure what material the black heart is cut from, nor what metal is the backing. I do know that the head was carefully and painstakingly cut out from a dime. The chain is silver. I am also not sure why my Mom honored me with this necklace, I have both an older and younger sister, but I am very grateful that it is now mine. This necklace, along with the story of my dad's love for my mom, will be passed on to my daughter..... someday, but not today.
When it comes to silver telling stories, you have to have a charm bracelet. It doesn't matter if you are tom boy or girly girl, I think it is a rite of passage for any young lady. I received mine as a birthday gift when I was 16. My daughter received hers when she turned 14. My charms include a bike, a cross, a sewing machine (representing what is important in my life) among several music themed charms that were awards from school. Elizabeth's also includes music charms representing her own school awards. (Like Mother, Like Daughter) I wished I had better pictures of the charms.
This pretty little purse was a birthday gift to my mother from one of her dear friends. She has had it for many years, and for many New Year's Eve parties, and other special gatherings. This Christmas, she gave it to my daughter. Elizabeth celebrated this New Year, being 21, with good friends, and Nana's silver purse. She is looking forward to many similar future New Year's Eves!!!
Next week I will showcase my more traditional silver pieces. Till then, please stop over and visit the other participating Silver Sunday Sistas and say Hi to Beth, http://thegypsyfish.blogspot.com. May their silver glow keep you warm on a chilly January night. Thanks for stopping by.
Welcome to Silver Sunday Blog hosted by Beth at the Gypsy Fish Journal http://thegypsyfish.blogspot.com I wasn't sure what I might have that would cover all the days of this blog party especially now that Christmas is over, afterall, the holiday season exudes all things Silver and Gold. But it is now the New Year, 2010, and with a few exceptions, the Christmas decorations have been put away. In this photo, resting on each candlestick holder, are two silver reindeer ornaments that I keep out for the month of January. They hold fond memories from my childhood. One of my earliest Christmas memories are of these reindeer. I can not recall how many reindeer my family originally owned, I am fortunate to have these two in my possession. Each year, they would be used in a different manner.... hung from lengths of velvet ribbon in the windows, displayed on a large mirror with fake snow laying atop the dining room hutch, and of course actually prancing all over the Christmas Tree. I have the candlesticks paired with two of my favorite mercury glass pieces, along with a silver bowl of fruit. The latter was a gift years ago from my best friend. It lends an air of formality to my hallway table, until I can replace it with that first of the season vase of fresh springtime flowers.
To properly herald in the first Silver Sunday Blog, we should raise our glasses in a toast to our host, Beth. I found these silver rimmed glasses (a set of 8) at my favorite church rummage sale this past fall, for a dime apiece!
They are sitting on a silver tray that was given to me by old friends over 25 years ago. The tray is engraved U.S.N for United States Navy. He was a retired Commander in the Navy. He passed away 15 years ago from a fast spreading cancer. Like my reindeer and fruit, this tray always brings memories of the person, and of happy times.
While it is good to hold dear these old memories, it is the New Year and time to create new ones. It reminds me of the old Girl Scout song that rather fittingly goes:
"Make new friends, but keep the old, one is SILVER and the other gold."
Please be sure to visit all the other participating Silver Sunday Sistas sites in today's Silver Sunday Blog. I look forward to next week, when I strike Gold, I mean, Silver, in my sewing room/treasure trove. Take care.
It is Christmas Eve. The packages are wrapped. The luminaries are ready to be set outside along our walk and driveway. As is our family tradition, we will be going out for Chinese food for supper, reminiscent of the scene from "The Christmas Story". Before returning back home, we will visit some of our favorite neighborhoods for their light displays, again a yearly Christmas Eve tradition. It was on one of those trips, years ago, that we saw Santa. My daughter Elizabeth was three and had been in her carseat enjoying the bright displays of colors and decorations when all of a sudden she yelled out "Santa, Santa, Santa!!!" Sure enough, there was Santa before us, walking down the street, no reindeer in sight. We carefully pulled up alongside him, rolled down the window and asked Santa if he could say hello to our daughter. Of course, he would be delighted, was his reply. He leaned forward into the car and asked Elizabeth if she had been a good girl. She enthusiastically nodded yes! With a Ho, Ho, Ho, and a hearty laugh, he wished her Merry Christmas, and with a blink of an eye, he left to begin his night's travels. You have never seen a happier child than my daughter was at that moment. That had been the first year she wasn't afraid of the big jolly old elf. All was right with the world. Unfortunately, dear old Santa smelled of Whiskey. It was a good thing he was walking, probably not safe to drive a team of reindeer, even with Rudolph's help. But through the innocent eyes of childhood, it was a magical moment. Of course, we still laugh about it.
This is Elizabeth and Santa at Daycare, age three.
Well since it is Christmas Eve, I thought I would recap all of my trees, plus show a few from past years. As I have mentioned before, I used to host an annual open house for a 100 or more. My guests would look forward to what new themed tree would be introduced. A few years ago, the local paper, The Portland Press Herald, did a two page article on my party and trees. The article began, "Sherrie could give Martha Stewart a run for her money." I never get tired of reading that. With the economy being what it is, and my putting a daughter through college, this year's party was just a few close friends, and only 5 trees and not 12. Before Christmas Day arrives and the season winds down, here is a final recap of trees, this year and past years. I hope that you enjoy them.
The article:
The Dart Room Tree: It has a southwestern theme. I spray painted plastic cowboy and horse figurines gold and copper, and hung them on the tree. My daughter and I made "God's Eyes" as ornaments and the tree is lit with chili pepper lights.
This is a tree from last year, The State of Maine tree. Naturally, it has a flocked seagull as its topper. There are lobsters, Santas in Sardine cans, blueberries, boats, bears and fish. I used actual seashells, pheasant feathers, and deer antlers as decorations. The kids loved the tree.
This is the Wedding Tree, posted earlier. Everything on the tree is white or silver. My daughter's first pair of baby shoes serve as an ornament along with a photo of my mother as a 1950's bride.
This is my 1960's Tree which I also posted earlier. I called it the 1960's tree as that was the year I was born and all these ornaments actually could have been on my first Christmas Tree. After participating in Joan's Vintage Christmas Monday, I learned that most of my ornaments are from the 40's. It is a tinsel tree of course. Notice my cat lurking under the tree. What is it with cats and trees?
The Hallway Tree, a new Black and Red theme.
My favorite tree, my Pink Victorian Tree. It has flowers, feathers, fruit, tulle and vintage ornaments, all pink.
The 2009 introduction of the Peacock Tree. With natural decorations and an iridescent glow.
Also in the dining room are the Rose and Cherub Tree and the smaller Tea for Two Tree. The latter tree has miniature cups, saucers and tea pots for decorations. I spray painted spoons with gold paint and hot glued ribbon and little roses on them. I use them as the icicles on the tree.
This white tree is the Bathroom Tree. I am not kidding. Years ago my husband saw a segment on HGTV about making ornaments from toilet paper tubes. He has made 100's of them as gifts and package toppers.
They really are quite pretty.
This is the Americana Tree, a past tree. In this picture it is sitting where the 1960's tree now stands. Notice that this is the old paint and wallpaper of the Family room that is now all beige and cream. (Family room redo is an earlier post). Everything on the tree is hand-made only by friends, bought at craft fairs or made by myself. The bow at the top of the tree is made out of brown craft paper.
This is the 9 foot main Christmas Tree. It sits under the arch that separates the Front Parlor from the Music Room. It has over 500 ornaments.
The Music Room tree with all musically themed ornaments.
The one tree that I do not have a photo for, is our Super Hero tree. My husband has a collection of vintage comics and has collected Super Hero memorabilia over the years, enough so to create this tree. After 9/11, we added soldiers, policemen and firemen figurines, as the words Super Hero took on a new meaning.
Thank you for letting me share. It is as if I had had my open house, and you all have come to share a Christmas toast with me. Thank you. Your comments have been like little Christmas packages, all tied up with a bow. Merry Christmas friends. Wishing you a joyous, happy and healthy New Year.
Welcome to the last Vintage Christmas Monday. Thanks again to Joan at anythinggoeshere for the wonderful job she has done in organizing this fabulous blog party. I had hoped for something new for this last date and actually found the felt Santa picture at Goodwill and the green cornucopia at a church Christmas sale, the picture was $.99 cents and the pottery $.50 cents. Around the frame of the picture, is a nice cloth trim piece, and real sticks were incorporated into the design. I meant to add a sprig of berries to the vase, but forgot to do so before I took the picture. Goodwill is seasonal when it comes to putting out decoration so I won't see anything new at Goodwill till November 2010.
For today's post I wanted to share an old memory, a new memory and a memory that seems can not be forgotten, no matter how hard we try. A while back, I was celebrating Christmas with my family. It was 2004 and the family was getting together at my house. Usually I am up at my brother's home for the holiday ..... he has Christmas and I have Thanksgiving. However, that year, my family wanted to see my 12 full size theme trees that I had decorated along with miles of garland, nutcracker collection and gingerbread houses a la Martha. I won't say it was over the top, apparently I just didn't sleep much before the party. I had food everywhere, after all that is my business. Tables were set up in the front parlor, music room and of course dining room and kitchen. All homemade goodies from scratch except the cheese (Sorry Martha S. I don't own a cow or goat.) Talk, between nibbling on tea sandwiches and scones turned to the topic of Christmas decorating. That was when the menfolk made a hasty retreat to the family room, not before filling up their plates.
We talked of homemade wreaths and bows, which stores would have the best after-Christmas sales ... Christmas Tree Shop or Michaels, and can you ever have enough candles? Burning questions to be sure (no pun intended - the candle question). However, it was that last question that prompted my mother to ask my sister and I if we saw the December issue of Martha Stewart Living and had we seen the article on the candle carolers? She went on to ask if we remembered the set of Christmas Carolers Candles that she used to have. Every Christmas Mom would get out the candles and arrange them on a mirror that lay on the dining room side table. She would add fresh greens and berries. The appearance of these candles heralded the start of the Christmas Season. We may not have had many family traditions at Christmas, but this was one of them. Like all things of our childhood, that got old, faded, and chipped, the candles were replaced with newer decorations. Mom said she had regretted having gotten rid of them. I came home one day and saw the box in the trash. I was 12. Horrified, I retrieved them from the bin (my first official foray into dumpster diving) and carefully wrapped them up in tissue paper and stored them away.
Until that year, 2004, when Martha's article had reminded me of my treasures. Safely wrapped up as they had been for so many years, they had been a protected memory of my childhood, of a time of innocence, when Santa was real. I knew it was now time to start a new tradition, with my own daughter. I unpacked the sweet little candles and made my own vignette.
Taking my mother's hand in mine, I led her to the family room where the candles in all their worn paint, slightly warped glory were displayed. Stunned, she turned to look at me. "Could these be the same candles? How" When I explained what I had done, she gave me a hug and said thank you. And for a moment we stood there in silence, gazing upon the candles, thinking of those years that they graced the dining room and when my father was alive. He had died when I was 13. And for a brief moment Dad was with us. OLD MEMORIES.
But there are times when it is okay to pass on a family treasure, because it makes you feel good to share. I just received this sweet little angel bell from my friend Cathy. Last week she had placed a beautifully wrapped box on my desk, so pretty you didn't want to open the gift. So after a moment's hesitation I unwrapped the box and there carefully wrapped in tissue paper was this sweet little angel. (I am thinking it was probably part of a set of 4 spelling out Noel, as the stocking looks like an L). It brought tears to my eyes because I knew that this ornament was one of the few things from Cathy's own childhood that she received after both parents had died. I knew the family memories it held for her and was honored that she had chosen to give it to me. She explained that it was the only decoration that she had of this type, everything else was more modern. She couldn't pass it on to her daughters, how do you decide which one to receive it? She knew my love of vintage and deep respect for family memories and could think of no one better than I to give this little angel a home. It sits proudly on my shelf with my vintage ceramic sleigh and elves and it will always remind me of my friend Cathy and NEW MEMORIES.
Awhile ago my daughter found a scrapbook at Goodwill that had memorabilia chronicling the time spent during the Vietnam War of one young man and his family. Elizabeth thought it was sad that one's memories had been put out for purchase and decided she should buy it out of respect for the soldier. It was only recently that I looked through the pages and found this Christmas Menu, detailing a Christmas Dinner for the 39th Signal BN (S.P.C.)
The menu included assorted relish tray, assorted fresh fruit, assorted nuts and assorted candy.
It wasn't the menu that caught my eye but rather the message from the commanding officer.
"To all personnel of this Command and their dependents, I wish to extend most sincere wishes for a very Merry Christmas. To those of you who are away from your home and loved ones on this day I hope that you may find solace in your knowledge that you are serving the forces of democracy in preserving the peace and freedom symbolized by Christmas Day. It is my prayer that wherever you may be, whether as a Soldier or Civilian, you will never fail to serve your God, your country and your fellow man. May the spirit which prevails here today continue throughout the coming years and there forever will be Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men."
These words were written in Viet Nam, almost 40 years ago, but they could have been written this week, in Iraq. Some Memories never change.
Perhaps not a proper Vintage Christmas Monday ornament or other decoration, but this does represent a long ago Christmas that is worth remembering. What is the phrase ......"People that do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it" .... something like that. Let us all hope for Peace on Earth and Goodwill to Men and that War will someday be only an old memory in the history books. Merry Christmas to all who serve and their families. God bless you and keep you safe.
