From the Fox's Den, 1990 - 2001 An Edmonton Christmas memoir by Kevin Fox
Christmas – The last ten years. Joyful 2001. In February of Our Voice Citizen of Month, made comment bset Christmas in last ten years. Here is year 90-2001.
I know that Christmas can be really stressful, unhappiness with most people, as I can attest to. I don’t need or want pity, in relation to the occasion. I think that I was awash in self-pity long enough. Finally put my foot down and stomped it out of my system. This is a way of healing the wounds of life.
Early in 1990, my father was diagnosed with cancer, had an operation and chemo. Cancer went in remission. Doctor wasn’t positive that he’d survive till Christmas. We celebrated early, on Remembrance Day long weekend. Seven sons and daughters out of sight, were there along with grandkids, our cousins from Toronto (only have two cousins in Canada), my parents family are in Ireland, my dad’s brother lived in England.
I isolated myself from family and friends when Christmas did arrive. I got lost in abusing substances. May of 1991, cancer reappeared with a vengeance, spreading from the bowel to the liver. My father passed on after a courageous battle on the 30th of September.
Thanksgiving was so close following the funeral, not much to celebrate. Remembrance Days, was always a sad time around our house, but the service just made the occasion harder to handle. Christmas was a disaster.
Christmas ’92 was worse than the last. Family members were branching off in different directions, some not wanting to be around, or talk to one another.
February ’93 - my mom had to be put in a community living residence.
I went AWOL for seven months, June until the end of January. I was around but couldn’t be found. Missed Christmas that year.
April 30th, 1994, my mom passed away. It was a tragic accident, happened quickly and without warning. Mother’s Day was two days after the funeral.
Christmas was the first of many without parents. Spent time at brother’s place – subdued.
1995 was uneventful.
Spring of ’96 - living back in Edmonton. My youngest brother, Sean, was in Edmonton so got a lift to Dowling, pop. 1,200 in northern Ontario. All brothers and sisters gathered together at Christmas in twenty years.
Haven’t been back in 6 years. Life in Edmonton took a turn for the worst. My health started to deteriorate in fall of 1997. Christmas that year was spent at Urban Manor. 1998, I stayed close to the rooming house I was living in. November 11, 1999 – ended up in hospital with pneumonia for three weeks. Had to go back for cancer test and wasn’t until January got the good news, everything negative. Christmas was non-existent. Likewise for 2000.
January 2000 took three week day program at AADAC, then follow-up programs. I had always helped out at Bissell Centre, but not to the extent as 2001. That helped me stay grounded and focused.
Summer rolled around so I started volunteering for Cheryl, who was the Adult Rec Program Coordinator.
Fall – handing out coats and giving my time to lend a hand at Thanksgiving, for Lori the dietician/cook in the kitchen.
November, took program over again at AADAC. There wasn’t a relapse, just that I was headed over rocky roads. Had to reinforce for commitment to stay on the straight and narrow.
The Christmas and winter clothing was gearing up at the end of November. It was seven weeks of moving and sorting them.
PART II
The Christmas Spirits
I was getting strange feelings, since I had to do a lot of interaction with donors. My mind was made up that I wouldn’t have a negative look on my face. The emotions were running full tilt, so I went with the flow.
It started off slowly and snowballed into six different hats and Christmas themed clothing. Most of them came from the thrift store.
Had everything from Santa’s hat with bells, to sets of antlers with decorated toques. Old time hat with flaps, just like Elmer Fudd wears (part of Bugs Bunny cartoon show), with ducks, tinsel and balls. Hats had a Christian theme with a red star (one of the staff gave me that she’d made), and other crosses. The rest were general decorations, some with small bears.
I greeted the young and old alike with a wide grin and a sparkle in my eye. Here are some of the conversations I had. Mother, daughter, and granddaughter came into the reception area; daughter middle-aged woman in her twenties. Mother is in a wheelchair, out of sync with train of thought.
When gifts were being placed in the cart, she looked at me, staring really, I intuition I got, a joyous moment of bygone holiday season came to the forefront. Her bright blue eyes, light up and like silver dollars, shone like diamonds.
A childhood memory must have resurfaced. Barely audible she said, “Do you remember when I left out home cookies, milk for you and a carrot and twigs for Rudolph and the rest of your reindeer?” Bending over I held her trembling hand, and gave her a peck on the cheek.
A moist trickle of tears were flowing and I squeezed her hand gently and told her everything was alright. Daughter and granddaughter’s eyes were a bit moist. We said our thanks and goodbyes. Pushing the carts to the elevator, I was tingling throughout my body.
Talking to this man who had just come off the third floor. Learned when his parents immigrated, Bissell Centre had helped the family out quite a bit. Since he made a comfortable living now, he donated as much as possible. He doesn’t want to see people empty-handed.
As anyone who volunteers knows that, it can get chaotic and stressful. You have to try your hardest to be calm, cool, and collected. A few blown gaskets and anyone that tells you everything runs smoothly is a liar.
We had our moments.
As nearly everyone can attest to, kids can be cranky, especially terrible two’s. The daycare is always a beehive of activity. When passing by the desk where nobody gets past the smiling lady without scrutiny.
I walk up the bawling kids who are removing their winter clothing. Their eyes get wide as saucers. I start at them and say, “Are those real tears or crocodile tears?” Silence. I take off one hat with small bears or ornaments, and hand it to them. Thanks Santa. I chuckle as I get back to task at hand.
Now for the kicker. I get to be Santa at the drop-in Christmas party.
A lull in the action, I sneak away to the main floor.
Fatima stops and asks me if I’d got into child care. Just run in, ring your bell, and yell HO HO HO, turn around run back out. The chanting of Santa, Santa, Santa get belted out. I race back and shut the door quickly. After a few minutes, the din settles down.
After 1/2 hours or so later, Fatima gives me instructions to go through the nursery and back door into the child care room. I agree happily.
I race in, HO HO HO’ing, bell a-ringing, well then some of them started shrieking. I moved quickly to the back entrance.
Unknown to me, when all the kids heard the rumblings from next door, they went to their front door thinking that I’d make my entrance that way again. I came to a screeching halt, my pathway was blocked.
Twenty or so screaming kids, some yelling Santa, Santa, Santa – we love you, we love you, we love you.
They came rushing over, I was surrounded. This blonde-haired, freckle-faced tyke around 7 or so yells out, “That’s not Santa!”. The younger children reply, “Yes it is!” a couple of times. The banter goes back and forth.
I look the tyke straight in the eyes and tell him, “Yes, I am Santa.” The staring dual is starting. Then he says, “No you’re not. How come your beard isn’t all white?” Almost said that it was a chewing tobacco stain. Quickly thinking I proceed to explain that Mrs. Claus had made tomato and macaroni soup. I was eating with my coat off. Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer were itching to get back to work. I grabbed my clothes and barely made it to the sleigh. In all the commotion I didn’t have time to wash my beard.
During the whole time you could hear a pin drop. The tyke was scratching his head and eyeballing me intently. Best to leave while the going was good. Went through the HO HO’s one last time. The younger kids to the older boy, “So I told you he was Santa Clause.”
I’m ready to open the door, the tyke yells, “Hey Santa, if you go down the hallway, there is a washroom so you can clean off the soup off your beard.”
Fatima and another staff member are having a good chuckle, along with me.
That’s the bonus side of doing any kind of volunteer work.