As planned (subject naturally to inclement weather conditions which thankfully did not materialize) we shot ourselves from the lair and the apartment in good order approaching ten o’clock this morning en route to Sea King Seafood Restaurant on Merivale Road in Nepean for dim sum. We figured by getting there early enough we’d have the benefit of the handicap parking spot immediately at the front of the restaurant. It was a leisurely and predominantly private drive along the sometimes squishy (but mostly clean) roadways now fully restored from yesterday’s wintry storm. The snow on the fields was recent enough to maintain that veneer of perfection so suitable for the conjoint imaginations surrounding Christmas morning (especially of the young children whom the young parents no doubt equally delight to see transfixed by anticipation and gleeful want). Optimism is a vicarious pleasure!

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ISAIAH 53:3 (King James Version)

He is despised and rejected of men, a Man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. And we hid as it were our faces from Him; He was despised, and we esteemed Him not.

What memory I have of Christmases past does not illuminate any image in particular of Christmas Eve other than as a child, late in the evening, lying under the Christmas tree and staring into the shiny bulbs and other ornaments hanging upon the boughs.  But apart from that, my recollection of the weather on Christmas Eve is entirely lacking.  I mention the failure because today by contrast was such a magnificently brilliant day on the 24th day of December, 2024 that it would in my opinion constitute slackness to ignore it and not to record it as such. This is especially so because last evening and overnight it snowed incessantly contributing naturally to the pure white blanket of snow upon the distant fields and the river (now a muted winding trail into the horizon where it turns and vanishes).

Meanwhile by further dissimilarity we have received an email communication from our neighbour Bunny who is currently travelling in Morocco. Last we heard from her she was reeling from the fumes of exhaust in the urban landscape of Marrakech and marvelling at the allure of palm trees.  And now this!  She is quite impossible to keep either in sight or inactive.

Merry Christmas Billy and Denis!

Having an incredible time. Every day something new. The past few days we’ve been in the Sahara meeting Bedouin musicians, riding camels, “camping “ in the desert . Here are some pictures to give you a glimpse of the experiences. Think of you when I see Moroccan sweets on display in the souks! Hugs and kisses til the next time.

Have a wonderful Christmas!

It is inescapable that much of the emotion surrounding Christmas is that of despondency and remorse. A mere glance at Dickens tells one as much.  Clearly however there are exceptions; but I am inclined to observe that a good deal of life is unpleasant for many notwithstanding the literary turn for the better. Preserving either fervency or melancholy in a manner uninhibited or unbridled is not the answer no matter what the circumstances.  Whether one can reach a balance of pessimism and cheerfulness is questionable; they are after all rude companions. And while for the purposes of retailing fictional writing it matters what is the outcome, I prefer to contain my margin of liquidity to what for me is logical and recognizable. This means for example that invention of dolefulness is as unpalatable as the creation of illusion or sham.

The limited hours of Christmas Eve always quickly evaporate.  The unanticipated knock upon the apartment door from a cheerful neighbour wishing us a Merry Christmas; or the voice of another in the hallway sharing equally sparkling address; the fizzy time upon the road in the late afternoon sunshine; the dissolving sky of hued colours; and, of course, the lean time before Santa Claus appears!

We performed a hurried domestic duty in town this morning at the grocery store. There were things we needed to cover us during the upcoming several days surrounding the Christmas holiday. The supermarket was packed with people. The festive activity was evident. Judging by the anxiety of the drivers in the parking lot and the sound of car horns, tempers had elevated as well. It was thus a contrasting pleasure to return home to our riparian digs and nestle in for the afternoon.  The weather forecast was Heavy Snow.  Already it had started to snow.  My hibernation was soon sanctioned and confirmed.

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The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) can be relied upon to deliver meaningful music for a Sunday. At this time of year, it is not necessarily religious but certainly something along the empyrean line is always welcome.  Especially on a brilliantly sunny day such as today. The flat river is covered in swirls of white powder and bluish coloured mirrors bordering the sunlit shoreline. It’s cold outside and everything bespeaks ice-bound and crisp. The ribs of small trees are firmly erect against the limitless sky, a peerless azure dome.

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The Winter Solstice happened today, Saturday, December 21st, 2024 @ 4:21 a.m. Eastern Time.  Not sure who they get to measure the tilt of the earth’s axis. It is certain I was still in bed at the time notwithstanding the confusion surrounding Eastern Standard Time and Eastern Daylight Time. Accounting more liberally for the difference between standard time and Greenwich Mean Time (and, more profitably still, using my Apple Watch to override it all and to tell me at this instant the precise time in Los Angeles, California) the difference between Eastern Time and us here (whatever we may be called) is the difference between 2:00 pm (here) and 11:00 am (there), so a 3-hour difference. Less than I had anticipated.  I was thinking 4 or 5 hours. Not quite as much as the overnight from Montréal to Paris; that is, between 6 and 8 hours. No matter.  What is certain – that is, for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere (above the equator) – is that we’ve passed the critical low point of the sun’s axis. Now the light begins once again to augment its delivery. The midwinter character now officially abides.

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This morning in the subterranean garage, whilst conducting my customary back and forth on the tricycle along the dry basement floor, I encountered Wayne and Penny returning from an early morning outing.  I thought at first that they may have attended a matins service; and I was preparing to ask the usual quip, “Whether they had remembered to put any money in the collection plate on my behalf?”  It turns out they had been at a hockey game with their grandsons. As they descended from their vehicle it was soon apparent that they were in the company of two others, children, one older than the other. The older chap was introduced to me. He was identified as the team goalie.  And they had won today!  The congregation did however give me to understand that the celebrity was not altogether common. This was the first win in some time. Nonetheless I congratulated the fellow accordingly.  His younger brother (with whom the older brother had an obvious attachment) made a scene by playing fisticuffs with his older brother who merely manipulated his younger brother and kept him at bay while fluttering about. The older brother’s lack of intolerance pointed, in my mind, to a caring relationship between the two. The recent hockey game win may have softened the old brother’s endurance; but a quick glance told me the generosity was usual between them.

The grandparents interrupted the sports engagement to remind themselves and everyone else that they were due back for another game shortly.  This was only a short interlude. So the four of them reunited themselves as a group with arms connecting briefly to one another as evidence of the corporate enterprise, then herded themselves towards the exit to the stairwell and disappeared.

In an instant I was back to pedalling along the basement floor, hearing the odd crunch of grit (no doubt from the sand and salt outside this time of year) beneath the broad tricycle tires. Not long afterwards I fulfilled my objective of 30 minutes of recorded Workout (Outdoor Cycle). Afterwards I ate my breakfast during which time friends telephoned to advise they had a Christmas gift of goodies to deliver to us today. We’ve left the arrangement of the time to them.  I shall however take my ritual jaunt to the city. It is a lovely day!

As we descend astronomically to the critical point of the Winter Solstice (Saturday, December 21, 2024 @ 4:21 am Eastern Time) the bustle heightens.  Today, Friday, also constitutes the beginning of the last weekend before Christmas Day. The coincidental decline of the sun (when the Earth’s northern pole reaches its maximum tilt away from the Sun) expedites the commotion as darkness falls precipitously upon the picture.

There is evidence that the winter solstice was deemed an important moment of the annual cycle for some cultures as far back as the Neolithic (New Stone Age). Astronomical events were often used to guide farming activities, such as the mating of animals, the sowing of crops and the monitoring of winter reserves of food. Livestock were slaughtered so they would not have to be fed during the winter, so it was almost the only time of year when a plentiful supply of fresh meat was available.

Plentifulness is commonly a theme of the winter season. The exaggeration aligns not only with gifts from Santa Claus for the children but notably also food, sweets and glögg (a Swedish warmed red wine and spicy additions of cinnamon and berries heated in a large cast iron pot hanging over a crackling fire).

Glögg Ingredients:
These are the ingredients you’ll need to make this traditional Swedish glögg recipe:

Alcohol: This big batch Swedish glögg recipe is quite boozy. It calls for a combination of port wine (don’t throw away the bottles!), bourbon whiskey, and white rum.

Spices: The glögg gets its warm and cozy flavor from cloves, a cinnamon stick, and cardamom pods. A strip of orange peel lends fruity flavor.

Sugar: Sweeten things up with ¾ cup white sugar.

Raisins and almonds: Raisins and almonds lend subtle, yet welcome, flavor.

An iron fire poker, heated among the burning logs, was traditionally employed to augment the warmth of the glögg by inserting it into the mixture.

The images of the season – Hanukkah this year runs from sundown Wednesday, Dec. 25, 2024, through Thursday, Jan. 2, 2025 – are normally unparalleled bounty and light. In Modern Hebrew, Hanukkah may also be called the Festival of Lights.

The festival is observed by lighting the candles of a candelabrum with nine branches, commonly called a menorah or hanukkiah. One branch is typically placed above or below the others and its candle is used to light the other eight candles. This unique candle is called the shammash‎, “attendant”). Each night, one additional candle is lit by the shammash until all eight candles are lit together on the final night of the festival.

The name “Hanukkah” derives from the Hebrew verb “חנך‎”, meaning “to dedicate”. On Hanukkah, the Maccabean Jews regained control of Jerusalem and rededicated the Temple.

While we in our household have shamefully abandoned the cultural, religious and commercial instruction upon which we were raised, it is nonetheless impossible to escape the frivolity of the season.  And the baked goods!  Oh, my, those minced meat tarts are extraordinary! Gone – conveniently I suppose – are the days of social gatherings into the early morning hours. Occasionally we have a vicarious hint of the festive enterprise when hearing some high-pitched laugh in the hallway or from the elevator.  For the present however we confine our preoccupation to consideration of dim sum at Sea King on Christmas Day.

Today was Fire Alarm Day, the day “they” come to conduct the annual inspection of the fire alarm system throughout the 3-storey building and in each of the 42 riverside apartments. We accordingly thought it as well to absent ourselves during the process. By coincidence upon vacating the property we learned from one of the inspectors at the front door that he anticipated completion of the test by 11:00 am.

Prior to departure we briefly reviewed the breakfast alternatives. Once airborne we settled upon Neat Café in Burnstown, County of Renfrew. We’ve never been disappointed there. It nonetheless always surprises me to discover and rediscover uncommon excellence in a remote rural venue. The bias, as you might imagine, is an unsubstantiated prejudice, a myth that unparalleled cuisine should be confined to the urban environment. We proved once again this morning that it is not. Indeed my investigative pursuit à la carte did nothing but augment the chef’s talent and artistry. The accompanying grilled cheese sandwich on seeded rye bread was non-pareil in addition to being fortuitously unctuous. And the bacon!  It were enough to tempt a young Jewish girl when conveniently beyond the restraint of home (as indeed I recall Debbi Ages having been sinfully provoked when visiting my sister in my late mother’s renowned aromatic catholic kitchen). The eggs too were ideally cooked. And the assorted fresh fruit constituted a colourful and healthful addition. What however I must not overlook mentioning is the Breakfast Cookie, a chewy collection of nuts, dried fruit and cocaine. Perfection! And the double espresso served appropriately in a tiny glass cup and saucer. Meanwhile the dining room hardware performed functionally though otherwise unnoticeably. The sun shone brilliantly upon the frosted grounds and beamed warmly upon the interior hardwood. The consummate breakfast achieved. And I might usefully add the same for the Party of the Second Part. An undeniable 100% accreditation! Including as well the not unattractive waitress who not only performed admirably but also efficiently, affably and precisely (yet another art form) in an often underrated employment!

Before and after our country sojourn today we received communications from abroad.  First upon arrival at Marrakech.

Our driver Fariq met us at the airport and all is well. First impressions palm trees, chaotic traffic, cars and motorcycles spewing fumes. Snow capped Atlas Mountains in distance. Great to have Yasmina with me! This is going to be fun! More later.

And second from the United States of America.

For us to wish you a very Merry Christmas and a wonderfully Happy New Year.

We appreciate your letters and enjoy learning about your past and present…the realism being ever so clear.  Today we are 81 and 84;  next week I turn 82…never thought I’d be alive at this stage!  But we’re lucky.  And, I sing “Happy Birthday” to me on the 26th of every month!

George had a laminectomy last month and told the doctor, “Whatever you do, let me get to Florida!”  So he’s healing well, doing PT, driving…and we leave for parts south on Monday!  Glory be…

We’ll visit friends and family from Boston to Washington and then take the auto train on the 30th.  We’re looking forward to being in Florida for three months.

Keep the words coming, friends.

George and Bobbie

Punctuating these gratifying emails is my reinstatement upon the bridge. From here I overlook the boundless passage to the horizon. It is a curious metaphor when the visibility is so blindly clear and the perfection so utterly incomprehensible. It would require more than a pinch to remove me from its credibility and complacency.

This morning we removed ourselves from the apartment in anticipation of the arrival of our housekeeper. We allow her to work without interference. Besides we had Christmas shopping to do. And of course we left a little something for our housekeeper as a Christmas gift.

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Bunny telephoned shortly before ten o’clock this morning. She had only just heard from the car dealership that her vehicle had been repaired and was ready to be picked up. “Would I mind taking here there now?”, she asked.

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