CHRISTMAS AND NOSTALGIC STORIES

Christmas is always nostalgic for me. A time when I look back and remember the special people who are no longer with me. I smile when I remember Christmas at my Nana’s. She radiated such love that even today we all feel her loss anew every year. I remember receiving the books I conveniently left on a list for my mother to see, then reading all day and by torchlight at night. I loved my new dresses to wear on Christmas day but most vivid of all was the resigned sadness that a pony wasn’t tied to the front porch of our home in Melbourne on Christmas morning. Horses – these days I wonder how my parents coped with my obsession. Every year it was the same, a whining, irrational pleading for a horse.

It’s all so vivid, so when I think about those years I can’t help but become a bit maudlin by nostalgia. I have no real reason to be sad so I made a plan. As Christmas draws near I keep busy doing the many jobs I didn’t want to bother about at other times! Every year I promised myself to get them all done.  I always began with good intentions but one of the biggest jobs still isn’t finished!

This ‘began with good intentions’ job is sorting out my photographs. I know groan, groan. I have cupboards and drawers full of photographs (pre digital) and every time I make an attempt to put them in order I become side-tracked. Usually an hour later I’m still looking at photographs, sitting on the floor smiling at the memories.

I’m asked all the time where my stories come from and as I look at envelope after envelop of photographs the answer is obvious. They come from life, they come from history, but more likely they come from the things you love, the things you cherish and the things that constantly amaze you.

So here I am staring at a photograph of my great grandfather L. G. T. Marshall holding one of his many draft horses, taken around 1931 in Windsor, Melbourne. My great grandfather was a busy man, he owned a cartage contracting business with twenty four drays. These drays were used to haul sand from the beaches to mix concrete on building sites.

The thing is, it’s not only the photograph that fascinates me. I have the actual bridle the horse in the photograph was wearing. It’s hanging in my back room. This morning I took it down and snapped some photographs. Yes, I admit it could do with a clean. BUT I have to tell you, when I touch the heart shaped brass inserts I feel a spinning sensation transporting me back to Windsor in Melbourne during the 1930’s.

This is such an extraordinary family keepsake. It isn’t worth a lot of money, but having the bridle is not about money. Having the bridle is about heritage, a sense of belonging, relationships, family history and even how I came to be. I stare at the photograph and see a small man, his stance suggests he’s thinking, hurry up and take the darn photo will you! He appears serious, though you can’t see his eyes under his hat and it’s easy to see he has work to do. Determined, yes, he must have been because I  know he kept his family in fine style. Did he pass down some of that determination to me? It’s there, ready to be used if need be.

To be photographed with one of his horses makes me think that he cared deeply for them. I wondered if this particular horse was a favourite? He had to look after his horses because they were his livelihood but I suppose I want to know more. I would love to know if there was a special connection between man and animal. In another photograph taken with great grandma Helen he has a kindly face with a hint of a smile though again not looking directly at the camera. His gentle expression has me wondering about the brass hearts on the bridle. Could it be that he loved his draft horses dearly and appreciated their willingness to work hard for him. I hope so. The writer in me conjures all sorts scenarios and especially poignant are the brass hearts placed on the cheek straps, nose band and throat latch.

I know these days everybody has an abundance of stuff/things/objects but as I grow older having lots of ‘things’ doesn’t mean much to me any-more. The things I treasure are the objects from friends and family. The things have become stepping stones of my life. If a visitor asks, I can give them a tour and tell them about each and every piece. When I do this I feel I’m on a journey of love.

This year I decided I don’t need to bother to sort the photographs, my aim is to enjoy them. I love having my own private nostalgic trip. Oh, and to make Christmas day perfect I have the most gorgeous new dress. How could I have Christmas without a new dress? I have to hold tight to tradition don’t I?

Give you and your family a magical and possibly hilarious, nostalgic trip  this Christmas. Bring out the photographs and create a new tradition, it will fill everyone’s hearts with the most wonderful nostalgic-magic.

May Christmas be the bright beginning of a happy, healthy, and abundant New Year with a little dash of nostalgia thrown in to make it perfect.

Seasons greetings to all.

 To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect. ~Oren Arnold