Someday we’ll look back on this and laugh

The wind swept in off Great Slave Lake. It came up the beach across the open space between my house and the lake, including the parking lot of the store. The store I run. It whipped snow against the sun porch windows in a hissing sort of sound. Still it was a sort of pleasant sound. When you have no place to go, no place else to be, the sound of inclement weather can have a soothing effect. Soothing is what I needed. It had been a long haul. A long six week build up to this. Christmas eve. I stood in the sun porch looking at the waves of white snow, slashing at the front of the house. Lina came and stood beside me. She was puzzled; I suspect at what I was looking at. It was not actually snowing. It snows a lot in November in Fort Resolution, lake effect snow they call it, people in Ontario would know what I mean. The snow that was blowing around now was the loose layer of snow that skirls constantly in winter in the subarctic. It is hard and granular like cornmeal. It circulates like water, flowing with the wind like some restless river of white. When you are walking into the wind it lashes your face and bows your head. Sometimes it is easier to walk backwards. But tonight, this blessed night. I had nowhere to go and nowhere else to be. I looked down into my beloved Lina’s eyes. The lights on the tree made her eyes sparkle even more than usual.
“A penny for your thoughts?” She said breaking the soothing sound of Mother Nature. “I am the happiest man on earth!” I said putting my arm around her. “Listen to that out there. There is no place I would rather be in all the world this night than here with you.” I said, and I meant it. She smiled. I looked around the room. It was full of Christmas, strings hung in the doorways with Christmas cards draped over them. A beautiful real tree stood fragrantly in the corner, festooned with lights and all the meager ornaments that I owned. There was a bowl of mandarin oranges on the coffee table and a plate of chocolates too, in case company came by. My house had never looked so good at Christmas. This was our first Christmas together. I had never made a big fuss over the holidays before. After all I was single. I usually got invited out for dinner. A year earlier my friends Andrew and Dixie had driven three hours out of there way to pick we up and take me to spend the holiday with them in Hay River. With home cooking and a glass of homemade wine and a wood fire it was swell. People always take care of single men on Christmas. They know there is nothing mote helpless than a single man. For without them my yuletide feast would have been a turkey TV dinner. The single man’s Christmas in a box.
This year would be different, yet not dissimilar from earlier ones as Lina and I were invited out for the holiday feast. “How perfect!” I said when Lina told me of the invitation.” No big meal to prepare. We just show up, eat, and leave.” I was beaming. Lina seemed less smug. “I doubt it will be that easy, everyone wants us to be there it will be difficult too get away.” I was unconvinced. I had visions of an early evening a comfy sofa, a holiday movie on the TV a glass of eggnog and my beautiful companion. How perfect could you get?
In the meantime there was midnight mass. We bundled up and headed out into the night. Lina was in her handmade pink parka with her white “bug” mitts. I call Lina Ladybug. She had a pair of white puffy mitts that made her hands look cartoon-like. Like the paws of some cartoon bug. I called them her bug mitts. She wore her mukluks and with her long hair flowing over the pink parka she looked angelic. I wore my muskrat hat and an old army surplus parka that Lina hated. We walked the short distance to the wonderful old Church. As we stepped outside the bell began to ring, the sound bright and crisp in the frosty air. We could see the front door of the church opening and closing as the crowd filed in. The place would be packed. The windows spilled light out onto the snow the stained glass making beautiful patterns. The smell of wood smoke hung in the air; it was one of those northern nights where the smoke only goes up so far then hangs like a shroud over the town. The power lines were cloaked in frost, looking like white ribbons strung gaily between the poles. The parking lot of the church was full of trucks and snowmobiles. Friends and neighbors were crowded on the steps waiting for the rest of their party to arrive. Everyone was ebullient and handshakes were the order of the day. We found a pew in the back and took off our Jackets. A stiff draft went right up our back every time the door opened and that was often. The service was wonderful, partly in Chipeweyan, partly in English. We sang many of the old carols. Of course at midnight we all exchanged handshakes, hugs and kisses. Then we all filed out into the black arctic night.
We were frozen when we got home. The wind was in our faces and the thin Sunday clothes we had on under our parkas weren’t up to the job. We were soon in our “comfies” as we call them T-shirts and pajamas bottoms. We still has some wrapping to do so we turned the TV to the seasonal music channel and wrapped gifts. We finished about three a.m. and headed to bed, beat, tired like we had never been, yet very happy that tomorrow meant no work, no ringing phones or trucks to unload. I was delighted too that there would be no dinner to prepare. We slept like logs. In the morning Lina woke me when she stirred. She is a tiny little thing and I am a big man she only woke me when she wanted me to wake. . We prepared a special brunch of eggs, hash browns bacon and toast. Then we opened our gifts. We made phone calls after the gifts were opened to wish distant family a Merry Christmas and to thank people for the gifts. My Mom had sent Lina a stocking full of gifts just as she had always done for me. It was Mom’s way of saying “Welcome to the family.” This touched us both very much. Soon, of course we would be getting each other stockings. This would be my Mom’s last hurrah. She was good at it. Always picking such an eclectic mix of the functional and mundane, and the impractical and luxurious. There might be a toothbrush and a deck of cards. A miniature box of fine chocolates. Always there was a toy, a car or a top, or a kaleidoscope. These last items would bring a smile and would often be the thing that brought the most joy on Christmas morning. It was Mom hanging onto a bygone time and for us it was pure nostalgia and joy. For a brief moment I was back in my parent’s living room opening my stocking while waiting for my Dad to wake up and shave.
After we had finished our phone calls we sat on the couch and had coffee. It was mid afternoon and we awaited the phone call that had been promised for the signal of when to go for dinner. Lina laid beside me her head on my shoulder her hair smelling wonderful. “I could lay here forever.” I thought to myself I almost wished the phone would never ring. And it never did. We drowsed and napped. Time went by. The short arctic day had long since passed. Lina got up and stretched. She glanced at the clock on the wall as she turned on the lamp. “They should have called by now. I wonder if something is wrong.” She took the phone and dialed the number. “No answer.” She said with a puzzled tone. “I’ll call next door.” She dialed that number too and a brief conversation ensued. Lina looked at me her face looked pained. “What’s wrong?” I asked standing. “Well nothing serious, but dinner is off, what will we do?” She looked so scared and so sad. She looked as though Christmas had just slipped away. I on the other hand was in a space of such great joy that only a natural disaster would shift me out of it.” I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect.” I put a finger to her lips to quiet her. “I will be right back.” I said and I put on my coat and went to the store, sometimes it is nice to be the Manager. I returned in a moment with my purchase. Lina met me in the kitchen. With a flourish I withdrew two long flat boxes and fanned them like a hand of playing cards. “Christmas in a box!” I said waving two turkey TV dinners in the air. “You learn a few tricks as a bachelor.” I said smugly. “But I wanted our first Christmas dinner together to be special.” Lina said still sounding a little down. “Someday we will look back on this and laugh.” I said taking her in my arms and rocking her back and forth. And so we sat in our beautiful living room, had a glass of wine and enjoyed a dinner of turkey, gravy with mashed potatoes, stuffing and cranberry sauce. I looked at Lina with a funny look on my face. She smiled and we both laughed. In the decade that has passed since we have had some wonderful Christmas dinners. But Lina got her wish and my prediction has come true, it was a special dinner. If we had gone out to dinner it would have been great but I would not remember what we ate. I will never forget that TV dinner. My prediction that we would look back on it and laugh has come true with every passing season, at some point when we are alone, particularly if the snow is lashing the windows the subject of that dinner will come up and inevitably we will both end up laughing just as we did that blessed, memorable, holy night.

Life's little rewards

Andy was standing at the store bulletin board. He was flattening a bulletin against the cork board, as I had breezed through the door the icy wind that followed me had lifted the bottom edge of the piece of paper Andy had been tacking up. “Bit cold for a yard sale!” I said sorting through the mail I just picked up at the post office. Now Andy is a teacher at the school. Andy is a first year teacher at the school. They are a breed apart, these new teachers. They come to tiny northern towns like ours from universities across this great land with new sheepskin diplomas and shiny faces with ruddy cheeks. They show up every fall, full of enthusiasm and brimming with idealism. They are set to change the world. They can’t wait until the first day of school. They are young and hip and expect that the kids have just been waiting for someone like them. Someone who listened to their music who understood the way they spoke. Someone cool. They were full of the brave foolishness of the young. They are bullet proof.
I admire them, I do. I admire their enthusiasm, their bravado. I admire them and I pity them. I have seen them come, a week earlier than the older teachers. So keen and so full of energy. And I have seen them on the last day of school, standing on the apron of the runway, less than five minutes after their last class. The school door still swinging behind them. They had been packed for a week as they stood there waiting, straining to hear the sound of the single engine charter that was supposed to be waiting for them. Oddly enough a few come back. Most don’t.
Andy turned and looked at me forlornly. “I am trying to find Hagar.” His voice was reedy and tired. Now Hagar is a dog. Well sort of. Hagar is a stray that wandered into the school one afternoon. Andy took pity on this odd creature. Hagar was a dog of indeterminate breed. Usually people will pin it down to two breeds, you know like, it’s a shepherd, husky cross. Or maybe a terrier, spaniel mix. Hagar could never be summed up in two breeds. He had the head of a St Bernard, the body of a sheltie. He had a tail like a Golden Retriever but short legs like a Dachshund. He had a coat of many colors to match. I gave up trying to categorize him. If I had to choose two words I would call him an ugly, mutant cross. Not that I am a snob. Most of my dogs have been mixed breed and none the worse for that. But poor Hagar was another kettle of fish altogether. Andy was an English teacher. A literature major who had named the dog after Hagar Shipley from Margaret Lawrence’s A Stone Angel. The kids thought it was named after the Viking character from the cartoon of that name. So Hagar was missing.
I was a bit surprised that the dog was missing, it followed Andy everywhere. I liked Hagar. As ugly as he was he had a way about him. His body moved in a queer corkscrew motion, his tail was outsized for his tiny abdomen and it spun his body like some kind of gyroscope. Andy put in the last thumb tack and turned his face to me. His eyes were swollen and he had obviously been crying. I had been about to make a snide remark about Hagar seeing his own reflection and taking to the hills. Instead I put my arm over Andy’s shoulder. I glanced at the bulletin. It was a reward poster. It offered a $100 reward for the safe return of Hagar. There was a photocopied picture of the beast himself. The grainy black and white photocopy was no improvement on the original.
“Feel like having a coffee and telling me all about it?” I asked opening the inner doors to the store I manage. “Sure, I guess.” said Andy sullenly. He looked like he didn’t have a friend in the world. He was a quiet sort so it was almost a literal truth. The older teachers had been together for a while and the local guys his age were too busy to seek out the company of the young, bookish white guy. Andy would show up at my door on Saturday nights he would have the latest thing he had read under his arm and Hagar would be trailing behind. I would make a pot of coffee and we would discuss history or literature or politics or philosophy. I think he liked the fact that I had taken many of the same courses in college. When he left hours later Hagar would rise from my deck, shake off the snow or damp and follow behind him with that queer corkscrew gait.
“He was just gone when I got home last night!” Andy was practically wailing. “Gone?” I commiserated. “Was he chained up when you left?” I inquired. “Of course!” he said with disbelief. “You think I would let him ruin loose?” “I guess not. I am sure he will come back. I’ll help you look for him after work.” I said reassuringly. “I looked all night. He isn’t anywhere.” Well that explains the dark circles I thought to myself. I left Andy at the door after our coffee and went back to my work. We walked the streets for hours that night. There was no sign of Hagar. Andy was disconsolate. “Maybe he’ll be back in the morning.” I said as we said good night.
At lunch the next day Andy was back at the store. His eyes were clear; his cheeks were ruddy once more. He was bouncing as he walked. “I got Hagar back!” he shouted. He almost looked like Hagar; he seemed to be developing a corkscrew motion of his own. “Well I’m glad!” I said. “Did he show up at your door?” “NO!” Andy said pointing to a young man with an armload of junk food making his way to the checkout. “He found Hagar he just returned him.” The kid seemed to be as pleased as Andy he was struggling under the weight of pop and chips and gummy bears. He had a few chums tailing behind. I rubbed my chin and then shook my head. I was having suspicions. I thought it was my paranoia. I’ve been up north too long, I thought. I wanted to share Andy’s moment of joy. All was well for a week or so. Then in one of those déjà vu moments I came through the porch doors of the store to find Andy putting up another bulletin. I recognized the slope of his shoulders and the pallid cheeks and sunken eyes. He didn’t have to say a thing. “Hagar again?” I said. Andy nodded his downcast head. “Coffee’s on.” I said. “Tell me about it.” The story was the same. Andy had come home the night before to find Hagar’s chain outstretched the empty snap laying in the snow. He had once again spent the whole night walking. “Same reward?” I asked. Andy nodded again. “I have a feeling you will see him by lunch tomorrow.” I said my suspicion hackles standing on end. “You will help me look tonight?” I looked at Andy. They say that we start to look like our spouses after years together. Andy looked every bit as pathetic as his pooch. How could I say no?
That night was windy and cold. Snow lashed our faces as we walked every road and goat path in that tiny town, not twice, but three times. Nothing. I said goodnight and went home. Sure enough the next noon Andy was back in the store looking like He’d just had a baby. I congratulated him. A few minutes later a young guy came to the cash register with a pile of munchies. I took the till myself this time. I rang up the items and sure enough the young guy pulled out five crisp twenties when it came time to pay. It was a different boy, but the first lad was in line behind him, not buying anything, but they were definitely together. I stared hard at the youth and he began to shift his weight from foot to foot. “Let’s get outta here.” He said to his friend and they left post haste.
A routine developed. Every few weeks Andy would come home to an empty yard. A reward would be offered and the dog would magically appear. A boy would come into the store with five new twenties. Finally I had to do something. “Andy…” I said one Saturday as I poured coffee. “Do you trust me?” “Of course I do!” he replied emphatically. “Why?” “The next time Hagar disappears, and believe me there will be a next time, let me handle it.” Andy got pale. “How do you mean handle it?” he asked. “Just trust me I said. Andy got quiet for a second. He sipped his coffee before saying, hesitantly “O.K., I guess.” I nodded. “Good. The next time will be the last time.” He eyed me very strangely. He downed his coffee and took his coat. Hagar was already on his feet when Andy opened the door. He never even said good night. I watched the pair as they walked into the snowy blackness as they passed the last streetlight.
I didn’t have long to wait. Tuesday morning Andy dashed through the front door that familiar look on his features. “He’s gone!” he wailed. I sprang into action. I pulled a bulletin out from under my desk blotter. I had taken Andy’s last one and cut the bottom two inches off it. I photocopied it with my one and only change. Andy followed me to the bulletin board, perplexed. He stared at the poster. “You can’t be serious?!” he asked sounding a bit angry. “Oh yes, very serious.” I said turning on my heel and walking back into the store. Andy was hot on my heels. “You can’t do it!” He demanded. “You said you would trust me. So trust me.” I said firmly. Andy stopped, he looked at the ground. “At least help me look tonight.” He pleaded. “Uh-uh we have a deal. You are going to trust me and I am not going to waste another evening walking the streets.” I left him so suddenly he knew the conversation was over.
Andy didn’t come to the store the next day, so I went to his trailer that night. Hagar was on his chain in the yard. He jumped on me as I approached and I rubbed his big head. I slipped him a soup bone I had been saving for him. Andy met me at the door. “Well, how did it go?” I asked. “He was in the yard when I got home, on his chain no less.” He was a little down for a man who just got his best friend back. He had the look of a child chastised. “I think your problems are over now.” I said. I hadn’t taken off my boots or coat. It was obvious he didn’t want me to stay. I was turning my toque in my hand as I spoke. “I told you to trust me. I hate to say I told you so.” I said. “Well it sure doesn’t sound like you hate it. How did you know it would work?” he said tentatively. “Economics!” I said boldly. “Economics?” Andy snorted. “Yeah, economics. For a hundred bucks I’d kidnap your dog myself. For the ten bucks I offered no one in their right mind would kidnap that creature.” I let myself out. Hagar followed me the length of his chain. I stopped. He put his short legs on my tummy and I leaned forward so he could lick my face. I ruffled his fur. “Well boy, you may not be a purebred but you are the most expensive dog in town.” His tail was wagging a mile a minute as I walked under the streetlight and disappeared into the snowy dark.