Small towns, soft snow and Christmas melodies

One cold December morning some years ago, I was driving back home after having entertained as a comedian/storyteller in the Annapolis Valley the night before.

A soft and gentle snow was falling and, having all day, I decided to take in the sights along the “old road” and enjoy the small Valley towns that were dressed in their Christmas colours. To get into the Christmas mood I listened to the holiday music of Jim Reeves, Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney, Gene Autry (with his Red-Nosed Reindeer) and even my old tape of Wilf Carter singing “Jolly Old Saint Nicholas”, one of my all-time favourite songs from childhood.

Normally, I see these little towns like Aylesford, Middleton, Lawrencetown, Bridgetown and Annapolis only in summertime, but now, under a blanket of snow, Christmas lights and all the trimmings there was something peaceful and special about these places.

Soft snow kept falling as Jim Reeves’ melodies of “The Merry Christmas Polka” filled the cabin of my automobile and memories drifted to Christmases of long ago and going to the town of Yarmouth, a town very comparable with the Valley towns through which I was driving.

These songs of the festive season took me back to the fall of 1959, when I was a second-year student at the Yarmouth Vocational High School. Today it’s known as the Burridge Campus.

As Christmas neared and with the town “all decked out,” I decided to go against my meek nature (and my principles) and skip class one Friday afternoon for a stroll along Main Street; no one would miss me. The teachers were quite relaxed, yet it was best not to get caught.

Giant snowflakes were floating to the ground as I passed the jewelry stores, like “Hoods” and “Dykes”. Their display windows were in a festive mood, to be sure. Even the police station and Kenny’s Hardware were sporting colours of the season as I made my way toward the “Royal Store”, the centre of activity in the downtown core.

Under a blanket of snow and blinking lights I marveled at how pretty a town Yarmouth was; I had never thought of this before. This was a long time before the malls and other businesses dominated Starr’s Road.

Saw my math teacher

About then, I saw our math teacher, Clifton Goudey, coming toward me down Main Street, too late to duck and hide in one of the stores. “Doing any Christmas shopping, Laurent?” Mr. Goudey asked in a friendly way as I trembled and muttered in broken English, “Yes, Mr. Goudey, and lovely snowflakes.”

Would he report me to the school principal, Paul Shepherd, and get me expelled? There was no need to worry; Goudey was likely absent from class and as guilty as I was. (No one had noticed my being absent when I returned to class). “Guest Hardware” was nearby and this place held special memories of a dozen or more years before. To be exact, it was the fall of 1945. The war was finally over and a promise of peace permeated the air over the French village where I grew up. Soldiers were returning home and it was a happy time for the coastal dwellers.

At four years of age I had not learned English yet when my mother took me with her to do some Christmas shopping in Yarmouth, but I remember that day as if it was only yesterday.

In the display window at Guest Hardware on Main Street we saw a toy train, and what a beauty it was, somewhat reminiscent of the train on “Petticoat Junction”. A store clerk came out and activated the electric train for us; it went round and round on a narrow track and I still have golden memories after all these years. This was one of my early encounters in the wonderful world of machinery. I wonder if the store clerk is still living.

Back to reality, the car wheels kept turning as I drove carefully for home; the roads now had a sprinkle of salt. Absorbed and lost in my thoughts and daydreams, I had revisited my boyhood days and hours had passed pleasantly as I approached the “old family seat” in Yarmouth County.

The car’s music system had played all my Christmas CDs at least once. Bing Crosby was crooning “White Christmas” and snow was still falling softly when I turned into our driveway.

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