Ghosts of Christmas past

Of all the days in all the year
that I'm familiar with
There's only one that's really fun
December the 25th
Correct!
Ask anyone called Robinson
or Brown or Jones or Smith
Their favourite day
And they will say
December the 25
Correct!
December the 25th, me dears
December the 25th
The dearest day in all the year
December the 25th!
Correct!

This is not actually a Christmas story, it happened a few weeks before Christmas in 1991. In Charles Dicken's classic the ghost of Christmas past comes to Scrooge and shows all of the past Christmas's that have brought both sorrow and joy to him. This is one of pure joy, to me at least. It is a memory that always wraps me in a warm blanket of nostalgia and constantly resurfaces at least once a year.

I was living at Thompson Residence at the University of Ottawa and a dozen of us decided on a whim to bundle up and head out to the singing of the carols and lighting of the lights (its the muppet show tonight.... bum, bum, bum, ba) at the RMOC building on Lisgar and Elgin. It was a grand time, on arrival everyone was given a candle with red plastic glow cone over it, the carols were sung, the lights all pretty blue and white were turned on and glistened under a lightly falling freezing drizzle.
The crowds dispersed and we went walking in a winter wonderland, up Elgin, past the golden warm glow of the Lord Elgin Hotel and then down Sparks st to walk up to Parliament Hill to take in the lights. I can still remember the way the ice and snow glittered and shone on the medieval looking stone buildings.
The conversation amongst the dozen or so of us was light and airy, circling around classes, who was sneaking into which room at night and what we were all doing on the upcoming break. The cold and wet started to get to us and we made our way back to the university, well, more importantly to the Royal Oak on Laurier.
This was the place that cinched me going to this university.
It was a traditional style English pub, with white stucco walls and lead light windows. Wooden booths, dim lights and good staff.
But it was the sound that always welcomed you, the clinking of glasses, the multiple conversations, the laughter. It was this warmth that we walked into, moving to a booth area we sat down and had our drinks of Irish coffee, Guinness and scotch, all of us squeezing into a tight area, leaning against once another in the way that only university camaraderie allows.
I can still recall everyone that was there that night, but I have no idea where any of them are anymore. I hope that every now and again the same memories creep into their thoughts where ever they might be and look back fondly on a special moment in our lives that are made up of the snapshots of our lives.

So to you Serge, Jim, Norm, Rachelle, Gloria, Jen, Holly, Ron, Karla, Shelagh, and Renee - Merry Christmas to all of you.