A SALT SPRING CHRISTMAS STORY

It was rainy, but no snow. I was still a freshie to Salt Spring and living in a small cabin on Byron Road, my first and hopefully last experience living with no indoor bathroom.  Oh the outhouse… I mean, if you’re male it’s so much easier.You just wake up in the night, walk outside, and pee off the porch. (You know you do it). But us girls, we have to get dressed, hike out into the black night and pretend there are no spiders in the vicinity, even though we know better.

I had a roommate. One of those rommates that could never pay the rent but always had cash for a bottle of Black Barrel Scotch.  It was frustrating, but in the end I ended up just making sure I drank at least my share of the bottle if I couldn’t get the rent.

Two days before Christmas, after a blow up with said roommate, I noticed that he was gone, so was my debit card, and later I would find out, my funds also. I remember staring into my fridge at the empty crevasse that at home would have been spilling over with my grandma’s famous Christmas rice krispie squares, lemon tarts, and shortbread rolled in icing sugar powder. Instead I feasted my eyes upon a half bottle of hot sauce and some leftover rice that had somehow moulded into one large glob of starch.  I was out of firewood and everything outside was sopping wet.  I hitched to town with the small pocket of change I acquired rifling through pants pockets and jackets. I think it was about $30 actually…not too shabby. I bought tuna, cream of mushroom soup, hot chocolate and a tiny bottle of Frangelico (for my Christmas morning drink), and headed home.

It was only going to get colder so I did the unthinkable. I rounded up all my empty cans and lit them in the woodstove. had heard a rumour that in an emergency they burn a whileand do provide heat. I’m not recommending this, however I did what I had to do. I actually think I was pretty resourceful under the circumstances. I didn’t really know anyone yet and felt far too foolish to voice my circumstances to strangers.I made a quick trip up to my landlord Bob Stimpson’s house to collect call my mom and tell her what a great holiday I was having, then cozied up in my snowsuit and boots in frontof my woodstove and slept.

Strangely, I wasn’t depressed about my situation. There was a calm about the whole thing that I can’t really explain.  I was starting a new life here and this was just a little glitch.  When I woke up Christmas Day the fire was out but the sun was too. I looked out my sliding doors towards the light and noticed something on my deck.  It was a rusty orange and noticed something on my deck.  It was a rusty orange wheelbarrow full of perfectly cut and stacked dry firewood adorned with a little red bow.  I don’t know how he knew, but Bob (or should I call him Santa?) had somehow caught on.  It was probably the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.  It sure beat a shiny new toy by a mile.

I built myself the most roaring fire and happily sipped my Frangelico and hot chocolate, truly enjoying the morning. Soon thereafter Jane Stacks, who I had only met once or twice, showed up with a glorious plate of Salmon Pate and all the fixin’s. We spent an hour laughing and talking. I’m pretty sure if memory serves me right that Jane taught me my first chords on the guitar that day. I think it was a Buffy St. Marie song.

Later in the evening my roommate returned broke, hungover, and apologetic. David Whitten and his sailing buddies had picked him up hitchhiking and driven him home. They refused to leave without me. I didn’t know them then but they took me into their home for the most amazing turkey feast I’ve ever tasted. We are still close friends to this day. It was my first Christmas away from my family and I received the most precious gifts of all. Warmth, music, and a new family.

So pay attention to your neighbours and your community this season. Do something priceless for someone this year. Give them a story like mine to write about. Happy Holidays Salt Spring.

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