Mementos

Sitting down to write on a snowy Sunday in November is a rather pleasant undertaking.  There is a quiet inside and out and I enjoy sipping a cup of cardamom tea, appreciating the stillness of my surroundings, as I collect my thoughts.

In the pre-computer era when my children were young, November was the month I would sit down at my typewriter and compose the annual Christmas letter. This was a tradition enjoyed by both my mother and me, and in many ways was not only a wonderful way to keep in touch with friends we had made along the way, but it was also a great way to chronicle the year that was. Letters were such fun to receive; to be read slowly and savored.

Some time in the last 25 years, my November letter-writing shifted to January, as year end was always a challenge; hard to find the time for reflection and composition.  In the last 10 years, with instant communication – email, Facebook, WhatsApp and Zoom – Christmas letters have gone by the wayside.  Rather sad really.

Feeling nostalgic and having reached the age where my peer group is talking about downsizing, decluttering and Swedish death cleaning, my thoughts turn to why this is such an enormous psychological undertaking for many of us.

My thoughts turn to a comment my minimalist daughter (well, except for her wardrobe) made some years ago, when visiting our log home here in the Gatineau Hills. “Mom, said Saskia somewhat critically, “you have so many trinkets.”

I bristled at the word “trinkets,” which suggests something of little value or importance. I believe I responded by saying, the objects on various window ledges, on the what-not in the living room, and scattered in every room in the house, are not mere trifles, but rather cherished mementos. 

In every room in my home, even the bathrooms, I am surrounded by memories. That is, in my view, a beautiful and comforting thing.

In the den, as I write this blog, I am looking at two plates on the window ledge.  One comes from Japan, given to me by the former Chief Justice of Canada, Beverly McLaughlin as a thank you for looking after her dog.  The other one comes from China, given to my parents when my father was Canada’s Consul General in New York. The six roosters on the Chinese plate perhaps inspired my love of roosters, and there are several scattered about the house, including the beautiful stained-glass piece, the “Cock of the Walk,” created by my friend and former Lac Bernard glass artist, Marilyn French St. George. He crows proudly proudly above my front door.

One of the paintings in the den is a beautiful portrait of my mother, painted by my husband’s cousin, Sue Rueger (Rathbun). This piece is of great sentimental value as it replaced the original portrait of my mother that hung in our dining room from the time I was born until a warehouse fire in Bonn, Germany destroyed most of my parents’ personal effects. A tragedy my mother took months to get over, as 25 years of memorabilia and furnishings went up in smoke.

Two very precious sculptures sit on a wooden chest (the chest itself a memento from India) in the den. One is a soapstone carving of two walrus, which I bought for my parents’ 25^th wedding anniversary at a fabulous shop called The Gallery, in Peterborough, Ontario. Like the walruses joined at the hip, my parents had a rare lifelong love affair. 

In the back hall, there are more cherished mementos. There is a small oil painting by my friend and acclaimed artist, Anna Luczak. Anna and her husband, and fellow artist, Antoni Romaszewski stayed here many times to look after our dogs when we were away. Their diverse works grace various walls throughout the house.

Also, in the hall hangs a sketch by local artist Al Skaw (whose sketches and writing appears sporadically in the Wandering Wakefield blog) depicting Tom Thomson engaged in conversation with Arthur Lismer.

During the confines of the Covid pandemic Al explored art history through the wanderings of Picartdor (an artist in search of colour in a dark world) and shared his work on Instagram.  In 2022, he was inspired to create a series of works – “An unreliable narrative” – exploring Canada’s celebrated Group of Seven.

Below Al’s sketch, is a poster of Lawren Harris’ painting Montreal River. The poster was created for the 1995 Diamonds in the Rough exhibition at the McMichael Gallery (the foremost venue in the country showcasing the Group of Seven and their contemporaries) in Kleinburg, Ontario. The exhibit marked 40 years since the gallery founders Robert and Signe McMichael bought Harris’s painting in 1955. It was one of the first in their collection of Canadian art and paid for in installments! My husband Steve and I had the pleasure of a personalized tour thanks to Steve’s Uncle Bill who was then the Communications liaison in the Ontario Premier’s office.

Opposite the poster and gifted to me by my friend Nancy Bruns, is a beautiful hand-carved bench her parents collected while on a posting in Spain. Signed by the artist, the bench features the story of John the Baptist. A perfect gift for folks residing in the province where Saint Jean Baptiste is celebrated! And a reminder of two young diplomats’ daughters and a friendship which began 52 years ago in a pension in Colombier, Switzerland.

Of various wooden sculptures gracing my windowsills, there are a few which have special significance.

The carvings of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, a gift from my one of my parents’ trips to Spain make me think of life’s journeys and a line in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, “Not all those who wander are lost,” and why it is best to avoid tilting at windmills.

My parents visited Bethlehem in the 80s and brought me back a carving made from olive wood depicting Nalda, the Samaritan woman who Jesus met at the well; significant because it represents acceptance and breaking barriers.

On the other end of the windowsill sits an ochre clay sculpture of a farmer with a hay bale on his back.

On a trip through France with our children in 1993, we visited the city of Orange, where in 1544 the Dutch nobleman William of Nassau was named heir to the county of Orange and crowned Prince of Orange by his cousin René of Chalon. William of Orange went on to lead the Dutch revolt for independence from Spain. His descendants became the monarchs of the Netherlands, and the royal household is known as Orange-Nassau to this day.  

The dining room windowsills and walls provide many mementos of East and South Africa, including two stunning wall plates – one of a lion and one of a pair of elephants.  On one window ledge are various wooden carvings of African animals. The crowning glory is a sculpture discovered by my daughter, Saskia, in 2021 following my brother Guy’s death during the Covid pandemic. In a garden shed behind the house in which he lived in Toronto, she found a bin full of wooden sculptures Guy had collected from his world travels.

When Guy went to South Africa and Zimbabwe in 2007, he purchased a wooden carving of the “Big 5” – a lion, leopard, elephant, rhinoceros, and Cape buffalo.  I did not see Guy before he died due to Covid restrictions, which to this day leaves me with a profound sadness. This sculpture is a happy reminder of my brother, our shared lives and place of birth, Pretoria, South Africa.

On the mantle in the living room sit two small paintings, one of two puffins alongside a collection of sea stones and shells, and at the other end, a blackbird and nest surrounded by stones collected from bodies of water, shores and canyons around the world, along with various feathers found in nearby fields and forests. Nature offers an authentic artistry that I adore!

Many mementos and many stories! I am inspired to continue with the telling so that my children and grandchildren can know the history and sentimentality of these objects and how they follow the trajectory of my life.

To wit, one of the first works of art I purchased in Wakefield over twenty years ago was a stunning ceramic wall sculpture by local potter David MacKenzie.  David sadly passed away earlier this year; an exceptional talent beloved by his community and celebrated far and wide for his artistry and humanity. The work is an abstract of hills, houses and a river!  It’s purchase marked the beginning of my acquiring the works of many Gatineau Hill artists, too numerous to mention and whose art ranges from whimsical to magnificent.

For as long as I can remember, my parents had a bookcase atop which stood a pair of bookends – two carved wooden bears, holding between them current and favourite books. Bought in Germany, these bookends did not come from the Black Forest as one might expect. They were Berliner Bären. For me, they stood for more than a family love of reading, but a gateway to travel and adventure.

Years later, when Saskia went to Bishop’s University in Lennoxville, Quebec, we would often stop at North Hatley, a beautiful little village on Lake Massawippi in the Eastern Townships.  Whether to have lunch or explore a few of the local shops and galleries, it was always great fun.  On one such pit-stop, I discovered a pair of bookends – two bronze bears!  These two bears came home with me and sit on the bookcase in the loft, with the last book my mother read between them. It makes me happy just to look at them.

On another visit to North Hatley, with my friend Julie (whose daughter Emily was also at Bishop’s), I discovered a beautiful ceramic Santa that called my name. He was so splendid in his red and gold robe that Julie came to regret not getting one too!  I tried to get her one the following year, but unfortunately, the ceramic Santa had been replaced by a green snowman!  A reminder to seize the day, and a prompt to close out this blog mentioning a few seasonal mementos.

Decorating for Christmas is an obsession I share with many people. And as my friend Kathy, who is über consumed with Christmas, once wisely said, “As far as obsessions go, I think it’s fairly benign.”  Going to Kathy’s house at Christmas is like stepping into the iconic window displays at Macy’s, Fortnum & Mason or Hudson’s Bay!

There is truly something magical about the Christmas season. For those of us who celebrate Christmas, there is a level of excitement that accompanies the annual hauling out of boxes of decorations, listening to traditional music and songs, and putting up the tree and decorating it!

Talk about mementos – I could write a book on my Christmas decorations alone.  In fact, last year when I had all 9 grandchildren visiting for Christmas, we had a contest to guess how many Santas Grandma Yolo aka Gogo had scattered about the house. Felix, then 6, and third to last in the pecking order, won the contest, coming closest with a guess of 63.  In my defense, I will say that many of those are tree ornaments and I do have a paper accordion which includes over 25 Santas!

Like stepping into a Rockwell painting there is something very evocative about a log house at Christmas.  It lends itself beautifully to a nostalgic ambience. 

Travelling down a snowy lane on a dark night, catching a glimpse of a deer who had just crossed your path and then seeing the coloured Christmas lights twinkling to welcome you home, is a truly joyful sight.

In December, the fireplace mantle is adorned with a garland. In the middle sits Ded Moroz (Grandfather Frost), a Russian Santa, a nod to my father’s youth in Archangel, Russia.

The African carvings in the dining room have been replaced by a collection of snowmen and Santas. On the sideboard sits the most charming and in many ways prescient Santa of all, a Santa bought from a magical Christmas store on Sussex Drive in Ottawa back in the 90s.

I had been in the store before Christmas and admired a beautiful ceramic Santa who was sitting on a tree stump reading the Christmas story, surrounded by woodland creatures who appeared engrossed in the story.  I truly wanted this limited-edition Christmas collectible, but the price tag was way beyond my means. It appeared I was not alone, as in the January sales, the woodland Santa was still on display. Periodically, I would check in as I worked close by at Chapters bookstore. By the end of January, I noticed it had been marked at 50% off.  Still a lot of money to spend in January post-Christmas giving!  Two weeks later, it went down in price again and this time I seized the day!

Living now, as I do, with woodland creatures around me, their tracks dotting the snowscapes, I feel like my woodland Santa honours their presence and my good fortune to live amongst them.

I am eternally grateful that the roads I travelled took me to this wonderful place, where I live surrounded by peace and beauty, wonderful friends and neighbours, and many marvelous mementos.

There will indeed come a time to pack things up, to move things on, but for the moment, I am glad it is not now.

If you have a story or memory to share, do send an email to wanderingwakefield@gmail.com