Rob/Windsor Ont.
New member
The Christmas marketing season has begun once again and the light sprinkle of snow outside serves to remind me that it will soon enough be here.
The latest technology wares are proudly being displayed as are the latest trends in clothing amongst a myriad of choices for us soon to be Santa's.
I-pods and cellphones. Old Navy and Reebok. And on and on it goes. In this year of our Lord, 2006 A.D., long gone are the days of simple gifts and simple pleasures. Or so it seems. But memories held dear keep simple things treasured near to our hearts.
True as it may be that items of interest of today were lightyears from the research stage back then, it is also true that enjoyment was to be had in things far less complicated.
I recall as a boy of seven, standing at the door of our humble bathroom, watching my father lather his stubbled face, lather brush in hand while swirling it against the old spice soap disc neatly planted within it's mug. The sound of the warm water trickling it's way down the drain is still vivid to my senses as I'd observe this manly task.
My young prescence while my father shaved became as much a surety as did his shaving soap mug and lather brush. A lather swirl of those scented suds always found their way upon my nose and cheeks amidst my smiling pleasure and delight.
I do believe I found a sense of security in those innocent moments as a child. The day will come when I too will shave and not a day too soon, I often thought in words far simpler. Christmas's were simple then. A hockey stick, PJ's and soap on a rope. A new football or baseball bat that were always worn out too soon. But the year of my seventh Christmas found a rather unusual gift awaiting me under our tree.
I had been invited to join the ranks of the men. My very own shaving mug and lather brush complete with "plastic razor". After donning my new PJ's, I quickly found my way to the bathroom to begin what was to be one of several "shaves" that Christmas day.
If anyone was looking for me that day, they surely knew where to find me. A lathering and a shaving I was. For the most part of that day and many to follow.
The pleasure derived as a young boy from something so simple never fails to remind me amidst the coming chaos that life is a scrapbook of memories. My reason for telling this tale to you, my friends, is as simple as was that gift itself. It is not what we give or receive that will be treasured, but rather the spirit in which both have been remembered that truly makes a gift a most memorable one.
The latest technology wares are proudly being displayed as are the latest trends in clothing amongst a myriad of choices for us soon to be Santa's.
I-pods and cellphones. Old Navy and Reebok. And on and on it goes. In this year of our Lord, 2006 A.D., long gone are the days of simple gifts and simple pleasures. Or so it seems. But memories held dear keep simple things treasured near to our hearts.
True as it may be that items of interest of today were lightyears from the research stage back then, it is also true that enjoyment was to be had in things far less complicated.
I recall as a boy of seven, standing at the door of our humble bathroom, watching my father lather his stubbled face, lather brush in hand while swirling it against the old spice soap disc neatly planted within it's mug. The sound of the warm water trickling it's way down the drain is still vivid to my senses as I'd observe this manly task.
My young prescence while my father shaved became as much a surety as did his shaving soap mug and lather brush. A lather swirl of those scented suds always found their way upon my nose and cheeks amidst my smiling pleasure and delight.
I do believe I found a sense of security in those innocent moments as a child. The day will come when I too will shave and not a day too soon, I often thought in words far simpler. Christmas's were simple then. A hockey stick, PJ's and soap on a rope. A new football or baseball bat that were always worn out too soon. But the year of my seventh Christmas found a rather unusual gift awaiting me under our tree.
I had been invited to join the ranks of the men. My very own shaving mug and lather brush complete with "plastic razor". After donning my new PJ's, I quickly found my way to the bathroom to begin what was to be one of several "shaves" that Christmas day.
If anyone was looking for me that day, they surely knew where to find me. A lathering and a shaving I was. For the most part of that day and many to follow.
The pleasure derived as a young boy from something so simple never fails to remind me amidst the coming chaos that life is a scrapbook of memories. My reason for telling this tale to you, my friends, is as simple as was that gift itself. It is not what we give or receive that will be treasured, but rather the spirit in which both have been remembered that truly makes a gift a most memorable one.
Oh yeah....I remember ! Our dads crawling under the crawl space before going to work trying to thaw the pipes out. Tryin' to light the space heaters with wads of paper.
