The Ward Christmas Party

A small black tree on my island.
decorated with harlequin clowns.
The black tree is just recycling my
Halloween tree.  I did try to hide
the bats on it with purple globes.

I went to the Bow Valley Ward Christmas party on Saturday night and Brook Melchin sat by me.  He and his wife had come in separate cars, and perhaps they had gone to different parties, for he couldn’t find her once he got there.  He did have a daughter there, but she was busy with her friends – which is what Richard told me would happen at our ward party.  He pretty much nailed the flavour of it:  turkey dinner on cardboard plates, some people in pearls and others in jean, children running from one side of the gym to the other, dodging around tables in their eagerness to play games with each other, and the occasional toddler who is dressed to the hilt, but can hardly walk and who tilts and lilts from side to side. Perhaps a new born baby girl will be there, one who already has an elasticized ribbon and flower around her head.  I added the last three on my own, but Richard got me started with the first three.

At any rate, in our conversation Brook explained to me that his mother is needing a lot of help.  She has home care in the morning and then someone comes in to prepare her lunch and to keep her company until about 3 pm.  Then someone in the family goes in to help her at night.  Then he told me that she felt a special bond with my mother for the following reason.  On the first Sunday that they had moved to town and were attending Sunday School, their baby was sick to his stomach and threw-up pretty much all over both Gerald and Evelyn.  They went out to clean everything up and Wyora followed them out.  She said, I know you are new.  Please bring your family and come over for dinner when the meeting is done.  And they did.  Brook told me the year – 1958.

I thought every home did this on Sunday.  Not even a glimmer of disbelief about this practise came into my mind until I was well into my 30’s.

Brook assure me that I was probably wrong.  Being wrong is fine.  But Richard wasn’t wrong about the practise of the ward party.  It felt pretty much like every other Ward Xmas Party I have enjoyed.