By Wes Lonoway – McTaggart, Sask.
My nostalgic trip began after a summer family barbecue. You know what it’s like after a meal with family. Some of the children are running off their newfound energy. Others have found a spot in the living room to kick back and relax.
From a nearby bookcase, someone pulled out one of many photo albums. Some are labelled as weddings and trips. Others have the usual titles. I asked my brother if he would pass one over to me. As it happened, I got the one marked “Christmas”.
I began randomly turning the pages of Christmases past. Turning back time for a moment, I began to relive the images frozen in time in a world of black and white, so-called colour, mostly washed-out, and of pink faded Polaroids.
Glancing through a page of black and whites, I paused at one photo, taking in everything. There on the window in the clutter of knickknacks, which can be found at any grandma’s house, is a plastic face of an angel illuminated. The angel would appear in many more Christmases to come.
On the windowsill sits a four-sided white plastic evergreen tree. Standing in the middle of this candid shot is my very young uncle with his girlfriend at the time.
Scent of fresh wood and oranges
On the kitchen table in front of these two is a bottle of spirits and small gifts that might resemble socks or gloves. In the centre of the table, beside a bowl of mixed nuts, is a small wooden crate. Tipped on its side, the previous contents would still be giving off the aroma of fresh sawed wood mixed with fresh oranges that would have filled the kitchen.
Bits of sometimes green tissue paper, visibly through the spaces of the crate, are wrapped around imported Japanese mandarin oranges. The tissue paper may have been saved for a later use, though it would depend on how soft the tissue was.
For some families, having, or receiving, a box of Japanese mandarin oranges is what made Christmas that much more special. This, of course, is from a time where things in life were more simple.
On the next page of the album is another photo. It is a woman sitting in an oversized armchair, adjacent to the table where the oranges were. Grandma.
One day about five years ago, I passed an antique and collectables shop. That day, I had time to go in and browse. To one side of an aisle, I noticed a vaguely familiar-looking box. It was a wooden Japanese mandarin orange crate in perfect condition. Memory played the photo from the Christmas album in my mind.
My heart filled was with excitement that this small bit of nostalgia was still around.
