The ghosts of Christmases past
Pat Fule
Fule for Thought
If you’ve been a regular reader of my column … I’m grateful! You 58 people out of about 13,000 town residents and 10,000 County ones, have really made me feel like I’m really in touch with my community! Since we are in another Christmas season, please indulge me as I reminisce about the good old days in Canmore. If you remember my crazy old Hungarian uncle and the still he hid at our house, then you’ll know that alcohol was sometimes a “rich” part of the Fules’ Christmases! I mean, nothing says Christmas to a 12 year old kid, like the merry sounds of a drunk uncle and your dad, singing sad Hungarian songs about the farm maids they left behind, and the hard times they faced! Yeah, it got a bit much at times, but heck, I even started to know the words!
My parents were staunch, “old country” Catholics. Christmas at our house meant opening the gifts on Christmas Eve, and then going off to Midnight Mass. This is a tough thing to do for a young kid, who’s wired up on the new gifts, the sweets, and the excitement! So … many times my brother and I were forced to learn about the manger and the baby Jesus through groggy eyes, while we quietly longed for our new Christmas stuff!
One Christmas, my parent bought us a new table top hockey game. It was what Gary and I had really wanted – the “Bobby Hull” CCM Hockey set! It was the game that had players from the Leafs and Canadiens on rods that you controlled on an “arena” with a scoreboard, a goalie, and even a light that would go off if you scored! It was so 1970 hi-tech, it was amazing! The one thing my parents never knew until we were older, was that Gary and I had become masters at finding our gifts, opening them, playing with them a bit, and then by re-wrapping them! To us, the real Christmas surprise was finding the new hiding place, and then opening before Christmas! I think the high point of our “espionage” was this year of the hockey set. We always had our tree set up on the end of our couch, which was also my mom’s napping spot. One night, while she blissfully snored away, Gary and I (like ninjas) crawled under the tree, unwrapped one end, slipped the set out of the wrapping, opened the box’s end, and played a bit, all while Mom was in “la-la” land. It was genius, and when she finally did start to move a bit, we quickly put it all back just as we found it! What was tough, was faking surprise when we finally opened the hockey game!
“Gee, thanks Mom … Dad!! A new hockey set? Wow, what a great surprise!” Hah! Another Christmas surprise … foiled by the Fule boys!
Later, as a teen, Gary and I grudgingly went off to another Midnight Mass, this time on a Saturday night. I was settled if for the long hour and a half session, when what to “my wondering eyes should appear,” but my drunk friend, Dave! Dave was not Catholic, but had found out the Fules were in church. He came from a party, and in his drunken state, thought a visit with the Fules in church was a good idea! My mom was mortified, but also hid a smile, as Dave was one of her favorites of my pals. My dad shushed Dave and me, warning me that Dave was my responsibility! Now, if you’ve never been to a Catholic Mass, there are times (or there were) when you make different motions with your hand, at certain times of the service. Dave looked like a third base baseball coach! He tried to mimic what we were all doing, but he added a lot of other motions. There were the hands on both hips, the nods, he even had a “brush-off” signal! Now, I was mortified, because every signal he did was followed by his giggling! He must’ve really liked the similarity between mass and baseball! I had to stop him, before my scary, mean priest noticed him! I quickly grabbed his hands, only to have him giggle even louder!
“I don’ wanna hold your hand, Pat … ’sides we’re in church …. your dad said we hafta behave!”
There was more laughter from Dave. It was no use, I had to end this, so I nodded at my parents and did what dad had done to me years earlier. That’s right, I hauled Dave out of there as fast as I could, but he was lucky … he never got spanked! This was the same Dave who had thrown up on the girl at a high school dance while dancing with her! I had to carefully keep him at an arm’s length, while I pulled and shuffled him two blocks to his house. Again, his dad thought I was a part of this … how did I keep getting blamed for his kid’s drunken condition!? I told him his kid made a lousy Catholic and Dave giggled again, showing off his new signals!
So, from the Fules, Brodie the Wonder-Dog, and Sonic the Hedgehog, Merry Christmas and a safe and Happy New Year!
(“Fule for Thought” is a slice of life humourous column that appears in the Strathmore Times, written by long-time resident, town councillor, high school teacher, coach, husband and father of two – Pat Fule. If you would like to get in touch with Pat, you can send him an e-mail at Pat.fule@shaw.ca)