Hello, Friends and Fairley and Minehart family members,
I am grateful to each of you who clicked this open. I am especially grateful to those who add a comment if you have a Substack account, which is free.
Most everyone who reads is either a Fairley or a friend. So, I consider you my champion in this process of publishing a book.
I am trying something new by uploading a video. I enjoy listening to audio and/or watching videos of others on Substack, so I thought I’d give it a try.
I realized after I finished the manuscript that I don’t have the stories that Mom and Gordon told me about their Christmases as small children, although I did write about Christmases when they were teenagers living above the hardware store. Possibly later, in a Substack or a public reading, I will include that information.
For those of you who don’t like to listen to or watch videos, here is the text of my message:
Lutefisk, candlelight and oyster stew
My childhood memories of Christmas are a treasure. Everyone was on his or her best behavior. Santa Claus would NOT visit a dirty house, so my brother and I had to help our mom clean the house in the morning and the afternoon of the 24th.
We always went to Christmas Eve Candlelight Services and I remember my 3-year-old younger brother trying to stay awake long enough to, as he said, “Put a fire on my candle.”
I remember the church being dark; and slowly, as each person shared his or her light with another, the whole church was illuminated and I could see the sense of wonder and awe in all age groups of people … toddlers, teenagers, adults, businessmen and women, carpenters, plumbers, physicians and elderly people. It was breathtaking.
And as that moment was literally extinguished with the blowing out of the candles, a new sense of excitement arose. People who opened presents on Christmas Eve wanted to rush home and tear open those gifts.
Ours was an “ethnically mixed” family. Dad, with his Scandinavian blood, wanted to celebrate Christmas Eve. Mom, with her British blood, wanted to wait until Christmas Day.
So they cut a deal. On the 24th, Dad made supper before church: lutefisk and oyster stew. That night, we got to open gifts from relatives living far away.
The next morning, no child was allowed out of the bedroom until Mom had checked to see if Santa Claus had visited and left some gifts. Then she would tell my father to get out of bed and the two of them would sit in the living room as my brother and I raced out of our bedrooms, still in our pajamas, to see what Santa Claus had given us.
I think Mom and Dad had just as much fun watching our eyes and facial expressions as we kids had looking over the gifts. But we never let it be forgotten that it was a religious event and the celebration was in honor of Christ’s birth.
In addition to the lutefisk and oyster stew Dad prepared, Mom made sure we lit the advent candles of joy, peace, love, hope and, lastly but most importantly, the Christ child candle.
I hope you have a Merry Christmas.
For those who joined recently, here is a substack post from last Christmas.
Though my mother didn’t grow up with a lot of trauma that you might read about in other memoirs or biographies, she did grow up during the Great Depression. She was quarantined as a small child due to scarlet fever, and the family lost everything, both the hardware store and their living space above the store, to a fire, so you know she faced some challenges. I think the most important thing I learned from her and writing this manuscript was to keep going and enjoy what you have.
That said, here are some photos of my immediate family and me:
Terry, Naomi, Rebecca and Rebebecca’s partner Matt. Dec. 22, 2024, at the Duluth Playhouse.
Terry, Naomi, Whitney (Terry’s son) and Jessie (Whitney’s girlfriend). Taken at Bentelyville (Duluth’s Christmas attraction, Dec. 14, 2024
This photo was taken on Thanksgiving Day. 2024.
Terry and I hope you have a wonderful holiday.
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