Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom (And Whimsy)

Posted on December 18, 2024 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with no comments yet

The Walnut

From time to time, I post a story submitted by one of my followers. I met Dawn Haloun 15 years ago. She grew up on a farm in B.C. In 2005, she and her husband sailed to Cape Breton and decided that this would be there new home. From 2011-2016 she attended St.F.X. graduating with a degree in literature. Enjoy this lovely Christmas story.

 

The Christmas when I was nearly four, I was not considered quite old enough to keep a secret.  At least, not a full secret. I was shown, to my brother George’s great glee, only a piece of it…a little blue box, with a walnut in it.

On this particular Christmas that I write about, we lived on a small farm with six milking cows, some pigs, some chickens.  The year was 1948.  Times were tight yet, not much cash flow so soon post-war, but there was lots of warmth from the kitchen’s wood stove, and there was the warmth of the friendly messages in the Christmas cards displayed around the room.

There were special aromas too of Christmas baking.  The shortbread was hidden away to age, along with Christmas cakes full of bright cherries and candied fruit. My brother and I knew where to find these wonderful goodies, and were very, very careful to snitch only one little piece at a time, which we were sure wouldn’t be missed.  This was the season too for Japanese oranges. The oranges came only at Christmas-time in a little wooden crate which was so useful for other projects long after the oranges were eaten.

There was also a wooden bowl full of mixed nuts on the table.  My little hands did not have the skill to crack those pecans or walnuts into neat halves to keep the nutmeats whole.  My brother was adept at manipulating the unwieldy nutcrackers and sometimes he condescended to share broken nutmeats with me.

A few days before Christmas the tree was up and decorated.  The old strings of lights were  artfully arranged over the tree’s thin spots. They were plugged in, and glowing brightly.

I had been allowed to handle some of those delicate glass Christmas balls.  Carefully unwrapping them from their protective tissue paper, I hung them as high as I could reach. My brother, who was three years older, could hang ornaments at the next level, then Mum and Dad did the upper branches, finishing with tinsel, and lastly the home-made star at the very top. The room lights were turned off, and we, our snug family of four, stood back to admire the magic.

At such a young age, I probably didn’t know much about the concept of giving gifts.  I knew that Santa Claus put presents under the tree on Christmas night, so when my brother whispered that our Dad had a special gift for Mum, I was perhaps a little mystified when Dad secretly showed me a little blue box with a walnut in it.

There was the nut bowl on the table with lots of walnuts in it!  I was admonished not to tell Mum. But why would I? It was just a walnut!  What was most important was being part of a secret with my brother and my Dad.

Christmas morning was about anticipation!  Somehow, all those gaily wrapped presents under the tree had arrived in the night, and there was an especially big one pushed towards the back.

The cows were milked and all the early morning barn chores were done. Breakfast eaten and dishes washed.  The old wood furnace in the basement had been lit and warmed the usually unheated front room. Anticipation and impatience were mounting, but finally we could begin!

There might have been some organized method of distributing the gifts – but finally the big one at the back of the tree was brought forward and presented to my mother.  “I know what that is!” I blurted out before my brother clapped his hands over my mouth.

My mother began to unwrap, and unwrap, and unwrap…layers of newspaper, string, brown paper, Christmas wrap, all fell away.  My Mum’s face expressed quizzical curiosity mixed with trepidation as she finally, finally, unwrapped the little blue box.  Dad was grinning, my brother was grinning.  But I knew it was only a walnut.

Poor Mum!  All that for only a walnut!

Mum opened the little blue box. Inside was gold paper, carefully wrapped around a nut.   Dad handed Mum the nutcrackers and she cracked the walnut into two neat halves.

Inside, folded as tightly as possible, was a $100 bill.

Mum started to cry. My Dad laughed and laughed and hugged her, and my brother laughed too.  I could only say “It’s only a walnut…but don’t you like it, Mum?”  Poor, poor Mum…only a walnut…

How could a four-year- old child understand the value of that special gift to a woman who had scraped and saved through the Great Depression, the Second World War, the years of small farm living?  What child could understand the generosity of a husband who himself must have pinched and saved for a long, long time to amass such a huge sum of money.

I know my Mum kept that bill for a long time. I’d like to think that she finally spent it on something extravagant just for herself, for something special.  I suspect she spent it on us, her family, for new school shoes, or a coat or a warm sweater for Dad.

Long after that bill was gone, she would sometimes take the little blue box out of her bureau drawer, open it, and gaze at the two walnut halves, a quiet smile on her face.

Dawn Haloun