Dad created many Christmas memories
HodgePodge by Charlie Hodge
For some mysterious reason I am recently recalling him as having larger, beefier hands, capable of gentle hugs when worn kindly. Christmas season and Dad got along fabulously – they brought the best of each other out.
I theorize that one of the main reasons I am so enthralled with Christmas is due to my dad and how he managed to squeeze the holiday season for as long as he could. It warmed the hearts of those around him when he was in that happy state. My fixation with the festive season is littered with multiple memories – many inspired by dad.
Ironically my first Christmas flashback was not a happy one. Dad and I were shopping in a department store in uptown Summerland when suddenly my protector and heroe was laying on the ground moaning and flopping about. The large man sputtered, “get me help Charlie boy” which I rushed off to do. Thankfully a doctor was also shopping in the same store and dad was attended immediately. What transpired I do not recall but it was a wakeup call. He was home the next day from hospital.
Dad decided we both needed to face our demons as soon as capable, so we returned to the same store and finished our shopping expedition. We went for hot chocolate afterwards – something I now recognize as “our thing”.
As background, the majority of my life dad and I were not friends due to my dad’s ferocious, unpredictable temper. A fear for me. However, at Christmas, for some reason, that all changed for dad.
I stopped trying to analyze why and simply enjoyed this whole new wonderful man.
Thankfully mom and dad enrolled me in minor hockey and even though I was a lousy player to begin with they encouraged me. We could not afford the best gear, but dad found people he could persuade to sell him older gear or at least at a reduced price. He was determined not to let our income hold back opportunities to partake in the world of average. On the occasional Saturday minor hockey game day when dad took part by attending – the routine was completed with a hot chocolate at Sing’ Café.
Syd Hodge’s finest hockey-hot chocolate moment took place in May 1966 when somehow (still beyond comprehension), he managed to take me and a new friend of his to Sing’s Café. He was only man I had met up until that moment who had bigger mitts than dad. His name was Eddy Shack. Eddy was in town for a promotional fund raiser event and dad managed to snag him away for an hour.
Dad and Eddy seemed to make quick friends, however looking back I am not shocked. Pa had that ability with people. Certainly, he loved to entertain and no more so than in his own home. Especially at Christmas.
As a youngster during Christmas my brother and sister were used to dad bringing a total stranger in the house for dinner. Sometimes at Thanksgiving as well. When done dad would drive them back to their dwelling (seniors home, hospital ward … wherever). For years Christmas dinner was usually a huge spread with grandma and grandpa Atkinson, elderly Eddie and Winnie Aldredge, Betty and Jack O’Mahoney, whatever waifs dad had found that day, and Old Steve. The table would be abuzz with conversations, toasts, Christmas crackers and stories. It truly was marvelous and magical.
Old Steve was a reclamation project my brother brought back to the family from the Anglican Church Camp where Steve worked as the camp caretaker. Since dad was not physically able do much in the outdoors Old Steve became our surrogate Daniel Boone and both Vic and I enjoyed years of learning about hunting, fishing and forest lore from the old bush rat, gold panner. A former skid row, alcoholic after cleaning up in detox he wound up working for churches – hence his arrival at OAC.
Dad’s somewhat unpredictable thinking also showed up in his gift giving for me.
I wrote letters to Santa all summer one year asking for a pair of skates or a stick. I received a pair of used figure skates (too big as well). However, I also got a small hockey set. Not challenging but Danny Thiessen and I made it work.
The next year I got a GI Joe. I know I received other items but for some reason I remember Joe. I was not a big ‘war guy’ back then so it was different. I think they were trying to find something cool.
I tried the hockey request again the next year and received a small guitar. I was shocked. My sister was a talented musician, but I had shown little interest. I was disappointed at the time but looking back I now realize what a great gift it was. It took me a while to give it a try, but clearly mom and dad had their plan.
I was lost and confused when asked what I wanted for Christmas. I was 13 and had no idea what I wanted to do for a career, no plan, no road to travel. Whatever I ‘wanted’ for Christmas never seemed to happen, so I had no list or letter for Santa.
Dad and Mom bought me a typewriter.
I was devastated. What the heck would I do with it? At that point I had not started writing poetry, songs or anything. I thought it was perhaps just dad playing head games again.
Clearly that’s what Mom and Dad were doing. And it worked.
That little typewriter (which is now stuffed in a corner of my shed) inspired me to begin writing professionally by age 17. Since then I’ve written approximately 2,225 columns, a plethora of songs (most bad) thousands and thousands of newspaper stories, magazine articles, and three books.
I blame it all on Christmas and on Mom and Dad.
