AWAY IN A MANGER….IN THE VILLAGE

Last year Gina Lopes McKenna shared these photos of the "new" nativity set at St. Anthony's Church on School St in the Village.  The wonderful part of this is that this set once was at The Taunton State Hospital.  When the hospital more or less closed, a parishioner bought the set, restored it and then donated it to St. Anthony's.  Perhaps the prayers of all those patients once surrounding it so long ago blessed it in their own way . How beautiful that it still exists offering its simple message for hope.

As we wrote last Christmas, for Portuguese homes when we were growing up, the creation of a beautiful nativity scene was a prayerful task for all of us.  My Aunt Eleanor took us kids off to the woods to pick moss and branches to nest the Infant Child.  My mother did the same.  In essence their nativity scenes needed watering now and then.  They went into creating hills and ponds with mirrors.When we saw sweet little animal porcelain figures of animals we often gifted them to my Mom. Her nativity creations had the Noah touch.  Our cat loved it, too, somewhere is a photo of her all cuddled up within it fast asleep.  Even creatures can adore the Little King.  When a child once looked at my own nativity scene and asked me who that was, I was astounded.  You never needed to ask a child from the Village.  The story was there before our wondering eyes, much more the focus than the Christmas tree.  Shepherds wandered to the manger before us which often had a thatched roof, tinsel provided sparkle to our imaginations.  This is a very old slide of one of my mother's nativity scenes.  You can see the thatched roof on the shelter of the Holy Family.  More figures were below on other "hills" making their way to adore the Child Jesus.

We no longer have a Christmas tree, but there will always be my own Nativity set on my mantle as you can see below. There are still some reminders of yesteryear.  The little wooden dog at left with stars twining his tail, was carved by my mother.  The curly white porcelain lamb is from an old Portuguese set. My white Madonna, St, Joseph and the Child Jesus are Chechoslovakian. The polymer brown pieces:sheep, donkey and oxen I once purchased from the gift shoppe at La Salette when I had my own first home.  Each piece has a memory locked inside.  One of my paintings provides background for a night sky. Each year when I take the pieces out and place them I find myself full of emotion and memories.  A ceremony as it were, a ritual, a prayer….just as my mother's was…….

Enjoy this video of nativity scenes I found to share  with you as 

you prepare your own homes for a real Christmas
and

May each and all find this Christmas full of blessings.

Sandra

                                        http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUDkWkd5Qbw

Memories dance like sugarplums….muses from Village yesteryears

There are no Christmases like those we grew up with anymore. Faded like the carols we often heard and sang.  Everything today seems crowded and hectic and some folks even resent it when

 you smile and offer "Merry Christmas".

This photo I clipped from Pinterest seems to cry simplicity which was what it was all about. 

Simply put it was all about the Babe in the Manger.

Our stockings were often filled with oranges and nuts or tangerines. You could count your presents on one hand and be grateful.  You had saved your pennies all year to buy your Mom some talcum powder and your Dad a necktie.  Diamonds were not on our lists nor the unimagined technologies that would take us away from family conversation and friends playing in the dimming light of the day.

It was so quiet one could almost hear the jingle of sleigh bells or the whish of angel wings.

The nativity set so beautifully arranged caught our hearts in hope and awe.

Christmas though, is safe in our hearts and memories, warm in the remembered fragrance of real pine trees and boughs.  Sometimes we do not remember all the words to the carols but we do remember belting out the Glooooooooooooooria with all the breath and enthusiasm we could muster.

Christmas was ours.  It still is and no one can take it from us.

For those of us who were once Portuguese children small and safe in our Village, the memories run around like sugar plums and make us laugh relishing each lived moment all over again. Like new presents we unwrap them slowly.  They are precious and must not be lost or mislaid.

This is the first of some Christmas meanderings from the past that

will make up the next few posts.  I invite you, urge you to share yours. 

Someone recently posted on I'm From Taunton Facebook that putting up

her decorations felt more like Memorial Day than Christmas.  I get teary when I set up my own little nativity scene as the memories, those long gone, crowd in for my attention, for my prayers.

Found this on You Tube…somebody feels as we do….

Village Thanksgiving

Here in the U.S. we celebrate Thanksgiving this coming Thursday.
As these holidays come along,
 my memories skip right back to the Village.
 Thanksgiving on School Street had its own music.

You could hear cars arriving at each house bearing relatives. Doors opened and closed, spilling forth children, roasting pans and tantalizing mysterious deserts hiding under dishcloths.  Moms and aunts grabbed their aprons and set to….children buzzed and, with luck, got outside for awhile.  Dads and uncles went on into the dens to set the afternoon football schedule or taste a bit of Portuguese wine.  If you were very fortunate there was at least one grandparent present.  My grandmother, Delphina, lived each day, every day with an apron on…so she fit right in.  Laughter was the order of the day. Laughter and conversation whose volume rose and fell depending on the subject.  All was  accompanied by the rattle of dishes, giggles from kids as they sneaked a taste of this or that and previewed deserts that were set aside.  Just this morning, my husband and I were speaking of the wonderful taste of those merengue pies, so high they seemed mountains to children, apple pies so moist they melted in one's mouth.  My Aunt Eleanor had her special recipe for squash pie….yum. How did they make that wonderful crust from scratch?  My Mom's hands moving at the speed of light as she cut the crust and crimped the sides.  Sorry, packaged deserts, you lose compared to those!!  The smell of roasting turkey as it was then….  Thanksgiving was a riotous festival for the taste buds and the sweet fragrances that tickled the nose.


I give thanks for that now….I was too busy playing as a kid to realize what was happening and that gradually over the years if would all disappear.  We went on to have our own families, but those Thanksgivings are what made us the parents that we became, tradition building upon tradition.  Beginning with storytelling….remember when ….???

Happy Thanksgiving one and all.  May you be making wonderful memories again this year and may those old days warm your heart along with the turkey and stuffing

and may the blessings of the holidays by yours.