The true joy of Christmas – releasing the child
HodgePodge by Charlie Hodge
Nostalgia, memories, joy and tenderness are just a few of the influences that make the Christmas season so important to me. I freely admit to being a sponge of emotion and tradition when it comes to celebrating everything there is to celebrate about the Great Architect of the Universe.
I love Christmas. I wait all year long for mid-November to arrive so I can begin to dance through the joyful steps of the holiday season – which I stretch as long as I can.
A very special Yuletide memory that lovingly lingers in my memory is from a Christmas Eve/Christmas Day experience 47 years ago involving two amazing friends – sadly now both gone – Phyllis Kitson and Butch O’Brien.
Phyllis Kitson was an absolute living angel of a woman, truly an old soul filled with wisdom, love, tenderness, forgiveness, and charm. A transplanted first world war bride from England, Phyllis and her husband John settled in a tiny cottage on Okanagan Lake close to Bear Creek eons ago when Westside Road was nothing more than a dirt trail.
She was widowed and living alone in her cabin by the water with her faithful dog when I met her in 1965 or so at age 10. She was already in her mid-60’s but I thought she was ancient. Already bent over from arthritis, with white hair and a large beak of a nose she truly did look like a witch except for her gentle soft blue eyes. But no gentler and wiser a person have I known before or since.
Phylis was known and loved by hundreds it seems, many who met her under duress or strange circumstances in which she played shelter or calm within their storm. I believe many were sent to her for help. She was a healer, a wise woman, and a Godsend. So many who knew her did so because once you met Phyllis Kitson you wanted to introduce her to your friends. She was and is unforgettable.
I visited her at least every second weekend for about 15 years until I left town for work. A visit to Mrs. Kitson meant hours of drinking tea, listening to stories, sharing philosophy and poetry reading, and general great conversation.
Phyllis, however, was dirt poor and lived a very simple life in her little, humble house by the water.
Butch was a wild, skinny, crazy teenage buddy of mine. For a couple of years we had become inseparable pals, along with our wingman Jim. Butch was a romantic who pretended not to be. He was a loyal and true friend with a heart of gold and love for others. Kindness was branded into his soul.
I introduced Butch to Mrs. Kitson, and he fell in love with her like everyone else. Mrs. Kitson celebrated Christmas but never had a Christmas tree or lights or baubles that I recalled, so during a visit one week before Christmas (around 1977) I asked Mrs. Kitson why she had no tree. She explained it was a lack of funds and no one to help her put it up or decorate.
“Oh my, I have not had a tree since I was a young woman in England,” she said with a wisp of a smile in her recollection.
Butch and I immediately exchanged knowing looks at one another.
We invited ourselves to spend that Christmas Eve at Phyllis’s – Butch and I would bring sleeping bags and crash in front of the fireplace in the small living room. We arrived late Christmas Eve afternoon, had a small dinner (cold cheese sandwiches and tea) and all turned into bed early.
We waited an hour or so to make sure she was fast asleep then quietly snuck outside and brought in the giant Charlie Brown tree we had cut the day before. Three boxes of lights, baubles, and other decorations later were dragged down the precarious snow-covered path to the house while she slept, and within a few hours the tree and living room looked like the North Pole. We rolled into our sleeping bags around 4 a.m.
When Phyllis came into the living room around 6 a.m. Butch and I turned on the Christmas lights and enjoyed the best five minutes of our lives. Around 75 at that point, Phyllis literally became a child again. With wide eyed wonder she stood in front of the tree, rocked slowly from side to side in delight, while tears of joy poured down her cheek.
It is the greatest Christmas moment I can recall.
***
My favourite holiday season of the year is upon us which means it is time for another Charlie tradition nearly as old as Santa. (Well, okay, perhaps not).
Every year around Christmas, for some 30 years, I have welcomed readers to submit names of special folks in their life to the Charlie’s Christmas Angels List.
Angels are simply folks who have gone above and beyond to assist or help others.
I invite you to send me your list of caring folks who have made a difference in your life or even just one day.
The criteria to make the Angel list are simple – be a kind person who willingly does something nice for another.
Return the kindness by surprising them with a public thank you in the Angel list.
Take a few minutes and email me your names and reasons to charliehodge333@gmail.com.
