Contrary to images held by foreigners and prospective visitors to our island of year round sunny days and balmy nights, Jamaica offers much more variety. Our sweltering summer days give way to October rains which cools November in preparation for that chilly Christmas breeze. It is that time now, and as we bring out the blankets at Neita’s Nest Bed and Breakfast, I have vivid memories Novembers heralding the promise of Christmas being “Just around the corner!” It was more than a comment. It was at once a tantalizer and a threat used tactfully by our parents to elicit the best cooperation and behaviours of their four little ones as Christmas drew near.
We knew then that sitting on Santa’s lap at York Pharmacy was just around the corner. We knew that the annual Christmas Eve stroll down King Street with our shillings for shopping was just a step away, and that the most exciting part, that of opening the beautifully wrapped gifts on Christmas morning, was any moment now. Those corners, those steps, those moments were however a long time in coming for a little girl. Year after long year!
Time didn’t fly as fast then as it does now. This allowed our parents ample time to change behaviours. During the year, for cooperation Mummy had a way of pursing her lips and dimming her eyes to give that silent look which spoke volumes. Other times it would be the promise to “Just wait until your daddy comes home!” We more feared her silent treatment and threat than the actual return, because Daddy’s punishments paled.
When Christmas was around the corner however, the threat was just that. Change your behaviour or no Christmas. Easy alignment! But how did that come about?
Being the enquiring, literal child that I was, I needed proof. So one afternoon, having had my 4 o’clock bath, and all crinolinned, coiffed and ribbonned, I set off with my Nanny for our usual evening walk. We walked and talked as we moseyed down Dayton Avenue. I stopped and looked all around, and back we went up the Avenue. As we reached our gate and Nanny was about to turn in, I told her, “No. I want to walk some more.” So, off we went, up Dayton Avenue this time. Half way up she was ready to turn back. I said “No. I want to go on.” So off we went, she reluctantly, I with a mission, all the way to the top of Dayton Avenue.
I stopped. I glanced. I looked up. I looked down. I looked around. Insistently, I held her hand and let her take me across the avenue to the other side. Again, I looked all around. Peeping through the fences of the homes on all corners of the avenue I saw nothing in those gardens that would put my anxious heart at ease.
It was then that my eyes caught site of a pile of brown bramble. Thinking back, it must have been the dried shrubbery left there after the pruning and clipping of someone’s garden. Slowly, I walked up to the pile, and peered. There, threaded and tangled in the brown woody pile was a tattered ribbon of red cloth that told a tale; the brightest red you could imagine, and the only bit of colour in this heap of seeming rubbish.
My heart was full of joy. I was gladdened with the tidings. Nanny could now take me home. Mummy and Daddy were right. Christmas was just around the corner.
In fact, Christmas was on my corner!
We knew then that sitting on Santa’s lap at York Pharmacy was just around the corner. We knew that the annual Christmas Eve stroll down King Street with our shillings for shopping was just a step away, and that the most exciting part, that of opening the beautifully wrapped gifts on Christmas morning, was any moment now. Those corners, those steps, those moments were however a long time in coming for a little girl. Year after long year!
Time didn’t fly as fast then as it does now. This allowed our parents ample time to change behaviours. During the year, for cooperation Mummy had a way of pursing her lips and dimming her eyes to give that silent look which spoke volumes. Other times it would be the promise to “Just wait until your daddy comes home!” We more feared her silent treatment and threat than the actual return, because Daddy’s punishments paled.
When Christmas was around the corner however, the threat was just that. Change your behaviour or no Christmas. Easy alignment! But how did that come about?
Being the enquiring, literal child that I was, I needed proof. So one afternoon, having had my 4 o’clock bath, and all crinolinned, coiffed and ribbonned, I set off with my Nanny for our usual evening walk. We walked and talked as we moseyed down Dayton Avenue. I stopped and looked all around, and back we went up the Avenue. As we reached our gate and Nanny was about to turn in, I told her, “No. I want to walk some more.” So, off we went, up Dayton Avenue this time. Half way up she was ready to turn back. I said “No. I want to go on.” So off we went, she reluctantly, I with a mission, all the way to the top of Dayton Avenue.
I stopped. I glanced. I looked up. I looked down. I looked around. Insistently, I held her hand and let her take me across the avenue to the other side. Again, I looked all around. Peeping through the fences of the homes on all corners of the avenue I saw nothing in those gardens that would put my anxious heart at ease.
It was then that my eyes caught site of a pile of brown bramble. Thinking back, it must have been the dried shrubbery left there after the pruning and clipping of someone’s garden. Slowly, I walked up to the pile, and peered. There, threaded and tangled in the brown woody pile was a tattered ribbon of red cloth that told a tale; the brightest red you could imagine, and the only bit of colour in this heap of seeming rubbish.
My heart was full of joy. I was gladdened with the tidings. Nanny could now take me home. Mummy and Daddy were right. Christmas was just around the corner.
In fact, Christmas was on my corner!
