I always think of my hometown of Temiscaming, Quebec on this holiday. It was less stressful than Christmas but even more festive, particularly in the last few years of the 1950s.
As a little girl I was entranced by the glitter of New Year's Eve. People really knew how to celebrate in those days! My parents usually attended the annual party at the White Oaks Inn. It was a festive evening that included fancy food, plenty of alcohol and a night of dancing. When I was really little, we had a neighborhood teenager as a babysitter. Later on, after my brother Allan was born, our other brother Steve was in charge.
My mother wore a beautiful black taffeta dress with gold, silver, red and turquoise threads creating a sparkly effect. The design was characteristic for the times: fitted bodice, tight waist and wide flared mid-calf length. The shoes were a toeless suede material with elegant thin straps around my mother's ankles, perfect for showing off her long legs.
The next day we trekked off to Mass but I was always a little tired, because I was never able to sleep until the parents got home. After Mass, the New Year's visiting began. It seemed that everyone had an open house, very informal. Then as now, people often gathered in the kitchen for booze, beer and snacks. I don't remember any wine back then, except in the homes of immigrants from the "old country" who made their own, usually some high-test beverage sourced from dandelions, potatoes or ripe autumn fruits.
We had a lot of Scandinavians in our town, mostly Norwegians and Swedes, great skiers and good drinkers. They could drink plenty and never show it, except in the loss of their Nordic reserve for this one day of the year. Many of them were some of my favorite customers when I delivered the North Bay Nugget a few years later. They were always generous tippers and invariably invited me in for treats during the holidays, nearly always offering alcoholic beverages (I was then in my early teens) along with pickled herring, cookies and fruit bread.
Later on, our parents usually spent New Year's Eve at the home of my godparents, Hugh and Catherine Lynn. It was a more sedate affair than the White Oaks Inn had been, and they were usually home shortly after midnight.
When I was home from McGill over the holidays, New Year's Day was a great day for skiing and socializing with the die-hard skiers. My mother usually baked a small turkey or, sometimes, a traditional New Year's ham. But by then our dad had died and our lives were forever changed. The celebrations were tinged with regret, the memory of happier days and silent yearning for a future that might have been.
I've never been a big fan of a big New Year's Eve celebration. I like to wake up on the first day of the New Year with a clear head and lots of energy. This year, in particular, I'm happy to see the page turn to 2026. The death in August of my brother Steve adds a certain sad solemnity to the passage of time. The political environment is stressful, and it's been a hard year to be a dual citizen living in America. I've always felt I had the best of both worlds, proud of being a Canadian and an American, and so in love with my adopted home of Minnesota. This year, I feel some conflict, but I won't address that issue on this last day of 2025.
Instead, I look forward to 2026 with optimism and hope. I am naturally a positive person and firmly believe that better days are in our future! Happy New Year!
