Osler’s School Christmas Concert, 1953

Always first were the grade ones and twos who did the Christmas acrostic. Margaret was first and she boldly held out the C. “C is for the Christ child, born that morn so long ago,” she said crisply. The concert was off to a fine start. Harold was next, and during practice, he had had some difficulties with his line which was simply, “H is for King Herod who slew the Hebrew boys.” Harold looked confident.

“H is for King Harold who slew the Hebrew boys,” he offered unsteadily, as giggles followed. The R, I, S, and T went off well. But Peter had traded his M letter with Tena’s S, and before Miss Janzen could correct the mistake, the final word boldly spelled C-H-R-I-S-T-S-A-M. For some time after that, Peter was called Sam.

The grades 3 and 4 pupils were next and had practiced their choreographed Santa Claus drill for weeks. But before the program began, the red and white crepe paper uniforms were fitted onto the pupils. All of us looked wonderful. We were ready. Miss Janzen put the needle arm onto the record player, and the marching music started from the 78 rpm disc.

I was a fourth-grader and led half the boys in the parade. Henry was the other leader, and the other half followed him. After the first routine, all looked well. But in the second routine, Bob stepped on Henry’s foot which brought down his costume pants. But he continued on bravely. In the next crossover, Harry hooked Henry’s Santa coat, and it tore away which then dragged behind him. After the last routine Henry was totally without a Santa suit. But as we lined up for the bow, Henry got the loudest cheer of all as he nervously held fast to his Santa toque, fearing it might yet come off.

The senior students did the dramas. In one play there was a very poor boy who was wandering in the village on Christmas Eve without proper clothing. He was hungry and had no Christmas presents. Someone noticed the orphan boy and invited him inside. As he entered, a voice said, “Come in and warm yourself here by the fireplace.”

It seemed to me that every year there was a drama where someone was invited inside to warm themselves by the warm fireplace which was made of red and brown crepe paper. Next, the poor orphan boy was asked to take a gift from the stocking above the fireplace. The stocking idea was strange to me because in our home we had bowls or Kommen. And then the orphan was given food, and everyone was happy.

The choir then sang, “Here we come a-wassailing, among the leaves so green.” No one said what “wassailing” meant but I found out later that it meant “singing, or caroling.”

Eleanor read the Christmas story from the Bible. She read well, especially the part about the angels telling the shepherds not to be afraid. I thought about the angels and wondered about them being real or not. We had figured out earlier that Santa Clauses were made-up people. But as there were no Santas in the Bible, we figured the angels must have been real.

There was a recitation where all the lines rhymed, but I cannot recall what the subject was all about. Words like Isaiah, and the Messiah, and the Christ-child were part of the poem. My cousin Edna recited it from memory.

Mr. Neufeld, the senior room teacher, then announced that we would sing “Joy to the World,” while Santa was unhitching his sleigh outside the two-room school. And sure enough, in came Santa Claus, who we could see was really Mr. Wieler, the board chairman. He was carrying a burlap sack as was Mr. J.C. Giesbrecht who managed the McCabe’s elevator and was the local blacksmith. They called out “Ho, Ho, Ho” before they opened the two sacks containing dozens of brown bags of goodies: peanuts, a Christmas orange, a big 10-cent chocolate bar, and other nuts and candies.

And then we put on our overshoes and parkas and woolen mittens and walked home: Mother and Dad, Irvin, Ruth, Wilf, and two-year-old Benny. Our warm breath created white frost build-up on our woolen scarves. There were stars out that night, and I could easily make out several constellations that my older brother Leo had pointed out to me earlier. I wondered if the North Star was the one that had stopped over Bethlehem. No one had ever told me which star it had been.

As we turned off the dirt road and walked over a snowbank through our garden, I remembered a poem we had studied. I liked the opening lines: “I walked on a snowbank that squeaked like leather, or two wooden spoons that you rub together.”

I felt so good as I walked home–Christmas morning was just two sleeps away. I had a feeling inside of me that I could not express. A feeling that something special was happening and I never wanted it to go away.