Some Christmas memories painful
By Lethbridge Herald on December 13, 2024.
LEAVE IT TO BEEBER
Al Beeber – managing editor
Today is Friday the 13th. Go figure, the supposedly most unluckiest day is happening at Christmas time.
Well, maybe the temperature will plummet so the chances of crossing the path of a black cat or walking under a ladder will be reduced. Anyone buying a mirror might want to be careful, though, if mall parking lots get icy.
With only two more columns before I end my stint here as managing editor, I’ve been spending a lot of time contemplating about what to put down here this week.
After last week’s effort, I’m a little low on inspiration, I have to be honest. And I’ve written enough sappy memories of years past to fill a book or put readers to sleep.
But as the holiday season gets closer and spirits start flowing like water after a snow melt, one memory always pops into mind. I actually am reminded of it every day when I look down at the deformed pinky finger on my left hand. And that’s because when I was young and rambunctious in Ontario, I was known to have the odd misadventure. Maybe I still do. Like wearing a hockey helmet backwards on my head as my old pal Craig Albrecht reminded me of last Saturday during a roast of me at the Herald’s Christmas party. Which Dave Rohovie confirmed was true although I don’t remember.
One of those misadventures occurred on Christmas Eve of 1982 when I and two near identical twins named Boyd and Barry Bragg lived in an old wartime house in Fort Frances on Phair Avenue at the north end of town a block away from the railroad tracks.
We’d become good friends in my short time there and the idea came up to rent our own place and save a few dollars. The house was a social centre for all our friends, a place with one bedroom on the main floor, two upstairs and an unfinished basement with a fuel oil tank for the furnace. It was our workout space with a set of weights and a punching bag which we all used quite often.
The twins were competitive guys and when one challenged the other, you knew there was going to be a battle. We’d do nightly runs and those two wouldn’t quit until one or the other couldn’t take another step.
But one night it was my turn to get into the battle. And it just so happened to be on Christmas Eve when we were supposed to be heading out to the bush to their parents’ home in the municipality of Finland.
The Braggs came from a family of bush people who made the most of what they had and always felt blessed to have it. Their parents Dave and Eileen were salt of the earth, Dave an amazing golfer who in a different era could have been a pro. Eileen was a kind and gentle soul who I believe also became a minister later in life, a nurturing matriarch who took great care of all her kids. And there were a good crew of them.
She also had some good nursing skills which Barry and I needed that night.
While getting into the Christmas spirits, we got the bright idea to play Nerf football in the living room and kitchen of our house. Barry was teamed up with a friend named Peter Martinuk and I was on the other with Boyd, who we called Bo.
After we managed to win the game, I made the mistake of emulating an NFL player by getting in Barry’s face and laughing at him. Sure enough, fireworks broke out. He head-butted me and I gave him a left hook to the eye.
Immediately we knew we were hurt. His eye was bleeding and swelling shut and my pinky obviously broken. Peter and Bo were so shocked they ran out of the house, not sure what to do. But Barry and I did.
We rushed to the newspaper office where I grabbed some first aid stuff then headed to the sporting goods store down the alley that he managed and grabbed some hockey tape and other items which we figured would work as bandages.
Then we concocted a story that we got mugged while going for a Christmas Eve run – in -30C when nobody goes running even in Fort Frances at night.
When we got back to the house, Bo was beyond livid that we were ruining Christmas Eve for everyone. Which was true.
So he threw me and Brry into the backseat of my Chevy Caprice and drove the 40 minutes to Finland, unwilling to go along with our story as we repentant combatants tried to fix ourselves.
At their parents house, the looks of shock and disbelief as the Bragg family celebrated the evening will forever be etched in my mind.
While Dave finally shook his head and laughed, Eileen went to work mending us as best she could. Bo was still so fuming mad his anger could have melted the deep snow in the forest steps away from the house.
By morning when everyone gathered to open gifts, Barry and I were sorry sights. One of his eyes was swollen shut. My left hand didn’t even look like a hand. And by rights we should have headed back home to visit Emergency but being young and feeling tough, that idea was quickly dismissed. So we suffered through the day, him unable to see and me unable to use my left hand. Although somehow we did manage to play some ice golf on nearby Pony Lake.
By Boxing Day when we had returned home, I did finally visit the hospital before covering an assignment that afternoon and sure enough the finger was broken and by waiting so long to have it checked, I was told while it was being put in a splint that it was going to be permanently deformed.
And here I am 42 years later looking down at that finger thinking some memories just are meant to last. And so have the friendships I have with the twins all these decades later.
We don’t chat much but we we’re still pals which is a Christmas gift unto itself. I just wish I remembered the rules of that game. In case this Christmas Eve I decide to try it again.
Who knows, it could be fun, right?
NEW ARRIVAL: With Christmas here we all have stress in our lives so just for fun, our household added more – we adopted from a rescue service an adult female chihuahua cross named Diana.
She’s the smallest dog I’ve ever seen and the most rambunctious we’ve ever had. And after the recent loss of my best pal Ben, she’s a welcome new family member. She’s a bit timid with males but she loves her mom and Izzy, who isn’t quite yet sure what to make of her.
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I enjoyed this…thanks!
Many thanks from Lethbridge for all the great work through many, many hours throughout the years.
Thank you for sharing all your memories with us and for your dedication to the community. I wish you well in your new endeavors and hope you make sure you send us a letter to the editor once in a while!