Our 2011 Christmas contest winners are...
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Our winners – from left, back row. Judy Nagy, Tara McCarty, Dara Macdonald, Ian Deakin.
Front row – James Burdon, Robin Ouellette.
(Gazette, Jim Duff) |
Art
‘Team Christmas’
This year’s front page art contest winner is Dara Macdonald’s watercolour of three horses. The 18-year-old Ste. Marthe resident is in her first year in the arts program at John Abbott College. She rides every day and has two horses, Houdini and Diva.
‘Old-fashioned Hudson Christmas’
Hudsonite James Burdon is just 13, but his use of perspective and height in his depiction of Hudson Town hall circa 1920 is striking.
Special mention:
‘Rudolph’s Rhino Rescue for Santa’
Professional illustrator Janet Mann’s submission shows Rudolph the Reindeer replacing himself with a Rhino as his way to help an endangered species.
“The African Black Rhino is considered extinct… Many are poached for their horns….there must be awareness to keep these animals in their natural habitat free from poachers,” Janet writes.
So because it is the season of giving – my illustration is Rudolph's way of giving to Santa which is twofold. A job for the Rhino to be safe from poachers by pulling Santa's heavy sleigh, and to give himself an evening off!
Poetry
‘Santa’s Wish’
This poem by Judy Nagy takes us far outside the traditional Christmas envelope as it reminds us that the greatest gifts are the ones that allow us to cope with life.
‘The Byte Before Christmas’
Ian Deakin’s take on the classic had us all chuckling.
Prose
‘Silent Night at the Hospital’
Dr. Tara McCarty has given us a wonderful Christmas story of how the spirit of kindness lives on.
‘Define Necessity’
Robin Ouellette’s first-person story of how she and her family have switched from Receive to Give.
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This year’s front page art contest winner is Dara Macdonald’s watercolour of three horses.
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1st Place Winner – Writing Contest
Silent Night at the hospital
by Tara McCarty
It’s late on Christmas Eve at the hospital, and I’m doing my night rounds. I’ve been asked by the nurse on the palliative care floor to see Mr, McDonald. She says he hasn’t been doing well today and wants me to take a moment to check on him.
Actually, I remember this patient from a couple months ago when I was rounding on the medical ward. He is a sweet 91-year-old man who still has all his mental capacities and a great photo of his nine grandchildren by his bedside. He came to the hospital with pancreatic cancer and a stroke, and when I saw him, he was short of breath from an aspiration pneumonia. On top of that, he had gone into fast atrial fibrillation with a heart rate of 160, and at 4 a.m., I put him on a monitor and pushed some IV metoprolol until he slowed down.
Once my heart rate and his were both down to the double digits, he smiled at me, amused. “It’s okay, my dear”, he said, “You don’t have to look so worried anymore.” Imagine! Me, the doctor, and him, the patient, and he was the one reassuring me! It was clear that in his life he had always been a kind, giving man who had looked out for others before himself. When I left later that morning he was breathing well, had a stable heart rate, and he patted my hand gently when I left.
Tonight, I walk past the mistletoe decorating the nurses’ station and go in to check on him. Much has changed. He has had two more strokes, and he is now palliative care, getting regular morphine and scopolamine, to control his pain and the secretions from his lungs.
I walk into his room, introduce myself, explaining that we have met before. He is breathing at about six during the minute that I count but seems to be focusing on my eyes. I am holding his hand and with my free one press the call bell to ask the nurse to phone his family, but once she answers, the only one left breathing in the room is me. Mr McDonald, the sweet man who only a couple months ago had told me to “stop being worried”, had just died, here in front of me, his hand in mine, as Christmas Eve turned into Christmas.
In a haze, I did the usual, the exam needed to pronounce, the papers, the signatures, the call to the family, helped the nurses clean him up, take out the IVs, take off the EKG stickers. I left his peaceful body in his room, waiting for his family.
But his spirit stayed with me for a while. I left his room and walked down the dark hall, lit up by tiny Christmas lights along banister. And Mr McDonald’s ghost floated down that hall with me, calm.
And so he walked beside me, holding my hand, all the way from 5 Main to 5 South, and then he let me off at the elevators, beside the Christmas tree. I pushed the down button for me, and the up button for him. His elevator came first, and he waved softly and smiled as the doors closed, his eyes once again telling me that everything was okay.
A St. Lazare resident, Dr. McCarty does rounds at Father Dowd Home.
2nd Place Winner – Writing Contest
Define Necessity
by Robin Ouellette
“All I want for Christmas is you”...”I want a hippopotamus for Christmas”...”All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth” — the lyrics go on and on. Let's not confuse ‘want’ with ‘need’ and ‘must have.’
Many of us have been caught up at one time or another with the rush of the holidays that we call the spirit of Christmas giving. I am as guilty as the rest of the crowd. I have prided myself on getting the lists, checking them twice, shopping on foot, wrapping and preparing and boasting that I am ready by December 1st. This lets me enjoy the rest of the month admiring the four Christmas trees in my home (yes, FOUR) - two seven-footers on one floor and one four-footer on the top floor and another in the basement, each fully adorned with its own theme and one with the train track around it.
I went into a tizzy if I could not get the right-colored lights with the right colored cord that adorned each window and had a spasm if I could not find the soft blue and white feather boa to serve as garland for one of my themed trees. My husband and I painstakingly sat for two hours searching for that damned light that blotted out all the rest of the cord until we gave up, trashed the set and went out to buy another one, or rather three that would go around my balcony outside.
I have four children, two still living with us as I write this, and five grandchildren. As my four children were growing up, I would plan visits to different convalescent homes to visit the elderly or veterans that had no one; invite a newcomer to Christmas dinner so they would not be alone; place wrapped or unwrapped gifts at mall boxes that I would have my children pick out when we went shopping for their gift list; pack boxes that would be shipped to faraway places for needy children so they would have something to open during the season and felt that this was good enough.
As my children got older, the lists were shorter but the prices were definitely higher. Gone were the coloring books and crayons and on the lists were iPods, iPad, iPhones, PC games and when they seemed to have all their games there were extensions to the games and on-line game time you could buy. Technology provided greater entertainment and emptied our wallets faster than water down the drain because you have to keep renewing the time on the game and there are crashes and billing for the roaming fees that your child or you did not know was a roaming area. It goes on and on.
My children grew up and in their late teens informed me that they no longer had the Christmas spirit and had no idea what they wanted for Christmas because “they had everything”. I had done it. I had accomplished the almost impossible and provided my children with “everything”. The sacrifice however (along with an empty wallet and credit card bills) was that they had lost the Christmas Spirit; the awe of the holidays and most importantly, the wants and needs of others especially at this time of year. Their focus had become one of not knowing what they Wanted instead of what they needed; their focus of Giving rather than Getting.
So saddened at the thought that despite all my efforts to take in the homeless, provide gifts and baskets and donations, my children had not been a part of this in a tangible way. So I did what I had done in the past and decided to actually take them shopping on line to a place they had only heard. This would be their Christmas list. This would be what they would receive for Christmas. So, we opened the gift catalogue and they picked out what they would want to receive in their name in the gift of giving to a needy family that could sustain that family for the year, for their lifetime and not just for the day – not just for that moment.
Our family now picks names so we are not overwhelmed with buying and spending for 15 members of our family and I made a decision to give my children the gift of giving. We went on line to World Vision and Samaritans Purse, chose the gift catalogue and each of my children will be receiving in their name, a family that they have donated a gift to. One of my sons will be giving two chickens and a rooster for a family; another son will give in his name, a goat to a family, and so it will go on as the year progresses for the rest of my children and grandchildren.
Please don’t interpret that I promote these two charitable organizations but that I found that this was a way to step back, take a breath, and analyze where the path of my life and that of my childrens was going. On my list of what “I Want” is to do a little more than I have been. I will give in my children or grandchildren’s name, a fish pond; a pig; a donkey; a dozen baby chicks. I will make sure they will shop with me and we will pick these items out together rather than watching TV and listening to the commercials of buy, save, buy.
What is in it for me? I want to leave my children and grandchildren with a legacy that their mother/grandmother taught them something of value; I want them to feel pride when they think of me and know that there is something special that we did together. I want them to understand that even though someone may be well off, they may still be in need if they are alone for the holidays. I want them to lose sight of the media mayhem and keep a spiritual eye open for the lost, the homeless, the alone, the elderly, both here and far away and still never lose sight of “family” and those closest to them that may be feeling left out and isolated for whatever reason. I want them to experience the joy of family and good friends because there are so many who have no family or friends at all. I want them to feel the true Spirit of Christmas because it is indeed, the greatest gift of all.
1st Place Winner – Poetry Contest
Santa's Wish
by Judy Nagy
A snowy vale, a meadow white
A shadow passing through the night.
A cloak, a hood, a tap of hoof,
A muffled jingle on the roof.
A heavy step, a boot of black,
A grunt, a groan, a heave of sack,
Whooshing wind, flurries flake,
The sound a huffing stag does make.
With creaking knee, he bends down low,
And scoops the package from the snow.
A bright red train with smoking stack
For Tom whose father won’t be back.
The house is still, as though in wait
For daddy’s step, a creaking gate
But all Tom hears, though lightly sleeps
A gentle noise, his mother weeps
The train will chuff and puff and shake
When Tom’s small heart begins to ache.
By shining moon dust Santa goes
Tree tops, starlight, high he rose
Toward a roof of house on hill
Where Annie waits by window sill.
She opens up the window wide
Invites the red-dressed man inside
Santa knows what’s on her list
He holds her tiny hand in his.
She will not get her wish this year
He cannot take away her fear.
He drops a box into her hand
A gift he hopes she’ll understand.
Box lid open, shy smile unfolds
Reveal an angel of bright gold
Her wings move slow, eyes shine bright
To help lead Annie, through the night.
When Annie’s heart will beat no more,
Angel will wait by heaven’s door.
And with a whisper, Santa’s gone
Through field and forest, almost dawn,
One more stop, near Elm and Main
Where sobbing Peter hides his pain.
Santa peeks inside his room
The glowing screen lights up the gloom
Web chat, cruel and vicious tell
Of life where school’s a living hell.
He lays a bag under the tree
With pen and paper, diary
‘Mark it here, it helps,’ he writes
‘Then tell your parents, tell tonight.’
‘When bullies shove and jeer and smack
Remember Santa’s got your back.’
A deep low sigh, old hand on cheek
Tired and weary, trembling, weak
My flying deer can’t pull that sled
Filled to the brim with grief and dread.
Joy is light air, happiness flies
But heartache and sorrow just lies
Heavy as bricks, each weighing a ton
So Santa thinks ‘maybe I’m done’
But up he stands, his deer rise too
Circling the town, through dawn’s pink hue
Back home to rest, to plan next year
Turning of tears, to hope so dear.
As the sled shoots up over town
He shouts and throws his wishes down
I need your help! Keep children near!
Know their hearts! Calm their fear!
They need you so, to stop your rush
To take their hand, to whisper ‘hush’
For simple toys can bring some cheer
But I come once, just once a year….
2nd Place Winner – Poetry Contest
The Byte Before Christmas
by Ian Deakin
T’was the night before Christmas and all through the house
Nothing was stirring ‘cause I’d
broken the mouse
The computer was humming but no web page would show
No Facebook, no Google, no emails would go
I’d been into Best Buy, earlier that day
Having previously thrown my old desktop away
I’d bought a new laptop and a tablet as well
The tablet from Apple, the laptop from Dell
I opened the packages, and bubble wrap too
And now we’d just see what these babies could do
But I dropped my laptop, and as it fell with a clatter
My wife screamed out, “Oh Dear, What’s the matter?”
On picking it up, no damage could I see
And soon it would be Facebook, and Google for me
But on plugging it in, my hopes quickly fell
All I got was some banging, grinding and a few sparks as well
I sat there forlorn and feeling quite bitter
I couldn’t send emails, I’d no access to Twitter
I’d tried phoning Bell to get some advice
And the chap in Bombay was really quite nice
I explained my position but he just couldn’t see
And kept on repeating “Oh my, goodness me”
So I went up to bed feeling down and forlorn
And woke up quite sad, though it was Christmas Morn
The sadness stayed with me, my
spirits just sinking
I sipped on my coffee, and then started thinking
I ran to the office and checked all the wiring
To find out what stopped my
computer from firing
I checked it once more and Oh! Silly me
I’d put the red cable in A and not B
My heart started jumping as I changed it around
And Oh, Merry Christmas, I got both picture and sound!
Special Mention – Art Contest
by Janet Mann
Some of the other entries
submitted for our contest
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Ulric Dulude - Grade 6, École St. Thomas
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Joel Vega - Grade 4, Forest Hill Senior
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Bianca Serafini - Sec. 1, Collège Bourget
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Julia Kissczuk – Grade 4, Forest Hill Senior |
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Kaitlyn To – Grade 4, Forest Hill Senior
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Tai Mavalwala - Grade 6, École St. Thomas
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Andrea Calabrese, 12 years old
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Eva Maria – Grade 4, Forest Hill Senior
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Special Mention – Poetry Contest
by Hugh Simon
The sleigh bells sftly chiming to the sound of carolling
and the horse trotting smartly as they heard the angels sing
The angels were the children and their parents on the sleigh
And they sang about the Christ child who was born on Christmas Day
The trees were softly mantled with a fluffy coat of white
And the fields wer sparkling brightly ‘neath the moon that shone that night
The laughter of the children drifted downt the country lane
As the happy times of Christmas were remembered once again
I knew that I’d been dreaming when I woke up in my chair
for the laughter and the sleighbells were no long ringing there
and I thought of the years between the present and the dream
when I let the Yuletide season pass, unheralded, unseen
I remembered the times I said that Christmas was a plot
to make the merchants richer with all the gifts we bought
and I know that there are people to whom this may apply
but for others it’s a reason to look up to the sky
to find the star of Bethlehem and remember the stable low
where the one we call our Savior was born long ago
The happy times with family gathered round the Christmas tree
and the children waiting wideeyed for Santa’s gifts to see
The laughter and the carols ringing in the winter air
are the spirit of the Season and the reason that we share
the sense of peace and brotherhood with neighbours and our kin
and it kindles something in our hearts that comes from deep within
So let us not be troubled by the thoughts of those who say
that Christmas should be banished, that it’s just another day
and gather with our families and our friends that we hold dear
and celebrate the Season throughout the coming year.
— Hugh Simon, who grew up in Hudson, is now retired and living in Lundbreck,
Alberta.
Special Mention – Poetry Contest
by Léonie Lepage
Le papa Noël à qui l’on pense tout le temps,
depuis qu’on est un petit enfant.
En rêvant des cadeaux et des poèmes de Noël,
qui sont toujours à nos yeux éternels…
Le père Noël est là chaque jour,
Pour voir si on est bien sage toujours,
et le jour de Noël arrive,
et si on a été sage on a les cadeaux,
qui sont tout aussi beaux…
Le papa Noël qui est si chouette,
et pour qui on ferait la fête,
est une personne qui nous connait,
et qui sait de quoi on est fait…
Les cadeaux du 25 décembre sont jolis,
et sont toujours adaptés au sourire qui rit,
Père Noël qui nous lit,
Soit avec tous gentil…
Papa Noël offre plein de cadeaux,
à tous les enfants du monde un sourire,
et offre les cadeaux les plus beaux,
qui sont pour eux le plus gros lot…
Merci déjà père Noël pour ton amour,
que tu nous portes chaque jour,
en nous donnant le rêve toujours
avec ton plus grand amour…
Special Mention – Writing Contest
by Alyssa Rachel Ustiniuk-Huggin
My tree is fake so if I am not there I don’t have to water it so if the needles don’t fall and hurt us. I have some decorations from preschool, kindergarten, grade one, grade two, grade three, grade four. We have Angels that are glass and clear and some have colour. We decorate the whole house in green, red, white and blue. On christmas eve we spend half the day on my mom’s Cynthai side of the family. The next half of the dayon my Dad’s Ashley side of the family. The reason why I go to my mom’s side of the family first because they live in Montreal and my Dad side of the family live in Ile-Perrot and it’s closer to us. We put up some light are snow flakes.
Special Mention – Writing Contest
The Christmas Spirit
by Kaelie Brossard
Once upon a time there was a very spirited little child. Her name was Stardust but her friends would call her Dusty. One day a new student arrived at her school just around Christmas and he was so mean, rude, selfish, and obnoxious. His name was Devin Gringots. On the day before the Christmas holiday Dusty overheard Devin saying to him that he was super exited for Christmas because he was going to get so much more presents than his Meany sister. After hearing that, Dusty walked up to him and said with a little bit of anger in her voice ” please, Devin, Christmas is not about getting, it’s a time for giving and forgiving the others that hurt you”. Well when he heard that he shoved her to the floor and said “Well I guess I’m Ebenezer Scrooge.” Devin stormed out of the room leaving Dusty on the floor. Dusty now sat pondering how she was going to help Devin realize what the true meaning of Christmas was all about.
The next morning as Dusty was sitting at the table with her parents, she overheard her dad telling her mom of a tragic event that happened overnight. Dusty heard the name Gringots and asked her parents what had happened. Dusty learned that at Devin’s house there had been a fire in their basement which had destroyed their Christmas tree and all the presents that were underneath it. The cause of the fire they believed had been due to the lights on the Christmas tree. Dusty gasped and asked her family what they could all do to help Devin’s family. They came up with the idea of asking all of the neighbors to give a small donation to help Devin’s family replace some of the presents.
So that very day Dusty and her family managed to collect $150 and planned to go to the Gringots house to give them the good news. They were greeted by Devin’s parents who invited them in for coffee and cake, which had been brought over by some other thoughtful neighbors. Dusty found Devin sitting by the window staring blankly at the falling snow outside. He seemed so sad. Devin looked up and saw Dusty standing there and he remembered how badly he had treated her the last time he had seen her. He remembered what he had said and Dusty’s words came back to him. All of a sudden the amount of presents he would of received did not seem to matter anymore. He realized that Christmas was about being with family and friends. Devin thought that although he had treated Dusty meanly, here she was with her family helping him and his family out in their time of need. Devin realized then that he was surrounded with the Christmas spirit.
Special Mention – Writing Contest
Christmas in Canada
by Loraine Henderson
And so this is Christmas in our new home country of Canada? It’s getting colder; the snow falls and melts, falls and takes longer to melt, falls and doesn’t melt. Christmas lights hang on the houses and on the trees, wreaths decorate the doors. The enclosed shopping malls are filled with over sized decorations that adorn cavernous spaces and lights flicker and gleam. The space echoes with Christmas carols and each store introduces a similar yet different soundtrack. Racks of clothes discounted for bargain hunters, kittens with red bows, nuts and chocolates, perfumes, liquor selections, once-a-year excesses of seafood, turkey and sugar cookies. Toys and electronic toys, toboggans and toques, skis and ski jackets, skates and hockey sticks. Christmas cards in the mail, letters to Santa, crèches and choirs.
We don’t know anyone here. Our apartment is sparsely furnished and doesn’t feel like home. It seems our work places will close over the Christmas period; we have days on our own, even into the New Year. Maybe we should go somewhere else, drive to Florida? We do. Christmas is the same in Florida, except for the snow. On December 25th, restaurants are fully booked. There is no space in the inn. Homes are either empty and silent or bursting with family and fun. The Florida community of Christmas has organized itself to celebrate with family and friends. Everyone has somewhere to go. We don’t belong here either.
And so this is Christmas in our home in Canada. It’s getting colder; the snow falls and melts, falls and takes longer to melt, falls and doesn’t melt. Our house has Christmas lights hanging on the porch, a wreath decorates the door. The enclosed shopping malls are filled with over sized decorations that adorn cavernous spaces and lights flicker and gleam. The space echoes with holiday music and each store introduces a similar yet different soundtrack. Racks of clothes discounted for bargain hunters, kittens with red bows, nuts and chocolates, perfumes, liquor selections, once-a-year excesses of seafood, turkey and sugar cookies. Toys and electronic toys, computers and cell phones, tablets and ipods. Ecards, gift cards, wish lists, Xmas orders on line.
Our home is furnished with decorations that represent memories of Christmases in Canada. It seems our work places will close over the Christmas period; we have many days with our family and Canadian friends, even into the New Year. We’re going nowhere, the spirit of Christmas happens right here. In thirty years of the day-to-day, work days with colleagues, sleepless nights with babies, children’s school visits, soccer games, church events, cycling, summers on the water, leaf raking weekends, vacations near and far, sadness and loss, disappointment and exhilaration, life has happened. And on December 25th, this is our restaurant, this is the inn. This home will be bursting with family and fun. The world may change around us, we may not appreciate the changes, perhaps we resist adaptation; home is acceptance. We don’t need somewhere to go to. We belong here, Canadian home; Christmas. |
