Finding the holiday spirit

Family Christmas tree hunting party. Dec. 17, 2023.

We’d wandered to the back of the back-40 last Sunday. Almost nobody was there. A bunch of the grandkids ran around as if it were the last day of school. My younger daughter and I walked in silence, scanning the horizon. She spotted one. I spotted one. Then my grandsons figured they’d found a tree. Eventually, I stopped and surveyed a likely candidate. “What do you think of this one?”

“Sure, Popou,” some of the kids said (calling me the Greek word for granddad).

But I waited for my older daughter’s youngest son to look and pass judgement. He smiled and said, “That’s good.” His mom, who usually decides, couldn’t join us this time, so the final OK fell to him.

“Let the holidays begin!” I said. (more…)

Ford’s foxes in our hen house

Choosing expediency over experience. Pinterest

We had considered many options. People. Places. Past knowledge. We knew the subject – youth violence and alienation – required some very specific understanding of the causes and effects of the problem. We had plenty of college and university experts on hand because we worked among them. But somehow we sensed to get to the root of the problem, we had to get closer to the ground. There was a vital element missing in our approach.

It was experience. (more…)

Tony Mellaci – first responder for two generations

Sergeant medic Tony Mellaci overseas 1945.

He saved my father. Then, he saved me. In fact, he saved both of us multiple times. The first instance occurred 80 years ago this December. Just before Christmas of 1942, both Tony Mellaci and my father, Alex Barris, arrived at Camp Phillips – a U.S. Army training facility in Kansas. The army had posted them there to train as medics in the U.S. Army Medical Corps. Then, something happened Christmas Eve.

“They told me to go to the headquarters barracks and pick up a soldier who was sick, and deliver him to the hospital. So, I and another ambulance driver picked up your father (although I didn’t know him at the time) and we took him to the hospital,” Mellaci told me. “But we never saw the sick soldier. We stayed in the cab while other medics loaded him into the ambulance.” (more…)

‘Twas the flight before Christmas

Wellington bomber crew at RCAF No. 407 Squadron, Chivenor, England. Back (l-r) second pilot Sgt H.S. Butcher; WAG Sgt A. Dunn; navigator F/Sgt G.B. Dunlop; pilot P/O D.E. Rollins. Front (l-r) WAG F/Sgt J. Mills; WAG W/O T.C. Newbury.  Photo courtesy Doug Rollins.

Pilot Don Rollins likely missed it on the first reading of his overseas certification as a bomber pilot in October 1942. It was three years into WWII, and the RCAF trainee from Estevan, Sask., had successfully completed his operational training to fly Wellington bombers in daytime and nighttime missions.

All the 22-year-old Canadian wanted, however, was to fly combat operations against the Germans. Still, at the bottom of the certification, his training officer had added a further endorsement:

“Night vision … Above average!” (more…)

Tony Mellaci – first responder for father and son

S/Sgt. Tony Mellaci in France, 1944.

He saved my father, and he saved me. In fact, he saved both of us multiple times. The first instance occurred 77 years ago this December. Just before Christmas of 1942, both Tony Mellaci and my father, Alex Barris, arrived at Camp Phillips – a U.S. Army training facility in Kansas. The army had posted them there to train as medics in the U.S. Army Medical Corps. Then, something happened on Christmas Eve.

“The lieutenant told me to go to the headquarters barracks and pick up a soldier who was sick, and deliver him to the hospital. So, I and another ambulance driver picked up your father (although I didn’t know him) and took him to the hospital,” Mellaci told me. “But we never saw the sick soldier. We stayed in the cab while other medics loaded him into the ambulance.” (more…)

The sound of a guiding light

Barbara Frum and Alan Maitland, co-hosts of “As It Happens” on CBC Radio in 1970s.

It was our first winter in Alberta. A few months earlier, I’d abandoned a broadcast position in Saskatoon for some writing opportunities in Edmonton. We’d tried to find a house to buy, but in Alberta, then in the middle of a boom, interest rates were north of 12 per cent. So, we rented a bungalow and settled in – my wife, our two-year-old daughter, and our second infant daughter, barely a month old.

As I remember, it was cold and (on Dec. 24, 1979) dark by 4:30 p.m. Out of habit, because we’re dedicated radio people, Jayne and I turned on CBC Radio for “The World at Six” national newscast and at 6:30 the Monday-night edition of “As It Happens.” And that night for the first time, we heard Barbara Frum’s co-host Alan Maitland launch into a Christmas reading.

“While waiting for control tower to clear me for take-off,” Maitland began, “I glanced out through the cockpit canopy at the German countryside…” (more…)

The Twelve Days of Christmas

Double the Christmas gift.

As I wrote last column, welcoming a baby grandson into the world was truly a gift. That was the First Day of Christmas. On the Second Day of Christmas, I went looking for a gift for my sister. I searched and then I found a photograph, taken of the two of us about 1972. So, I went to a local photo place and the guy said he could duplicate it, but that he didn’t normally adjust for contrast and brightness.

“But in the spirit of the season,” young Michael said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Thoughtful, I’d say. Unexpected gifts are the best. (more…)

All you need in winter

cbc.ca
cbc.ca

I had worked late into this particular winter’s night. I could have stayed in the city overnight. But I felt I should try to get home through the snowstorm. In Saskatchewan, that wasn’t a smart idea. And when I left the highway that February night, I encountered snowdrifts too deep and broad for my 1967 Valiant to penetrate. It was 3 a.m. and I was stuck in a snow bank miles from anybody. (And this in a day with no cell phones).

“Never abandon your car in a snowstorm,” I recall all of my experienced prairie friends telling me. And yet that’s exactly what I did to try to get help. I managed to reach a farmhouse, call my brother-in-law and he roared down the grid road in his four-wheel-drive truck and pulled me out.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he scolded me.

“Except, I know you’ll rescue me,” I joked. He wasn’t amused.

Winter weather is not to be trifled with, whether in the middle of a frozen prairie or on a frigid downtown street. (more…)

The Christmas shepherds

The Shepherd, painting by Lauren Grace O'Malley, courtesy Vintage Wings of Canada
The Shepherd, painting by Lauren Grace O’Malley, courtesy Vintage Wings of Canada

They are the most soothing and at the same time perhaps the most mysterious symbols of Christmas. They appear in carols, in the Bible, in Christmas cards and just about every nativity scene one could imagine. They are seldom quoted, but always acknowledged as trusted and worthy guides to a safe and protected place.

“And there were in the same country,” it says in the Book of Luke, “shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night…” (more…)