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Recalling Christmas memories

Frances Peckford, 84, reads poem written by daughter Pamela Peckford, titled “My Christmas Memories.” Frances was known to recite poems for the women’s 50-plus club.
Frances Peckford, 84, reads poem written by daughter Pamela Peckford, titled “My Christmas Memories.” Frances was known to recite poems for the women’s 50-plus club.

Daughter writes Christmas poem to help mother remember the good times

GANDER, NL — Pamela Peckford has a way with words. 

She recalls writing her first poem when she was around 10.

She is 59 now and continues to write poems, but said she began writing daily in the last three to four years.

Peckford’s passion for writing began as a child while reading at the library in the old Gander town site. The library was “as big as an outhouse that was filled wall-to-wall with books,” Peckford said.

“I went in and I sat on the floor and read every single one of them.”

Coincidentally, while visiting a home, Peckford met Mrs. Healy, the former librarian at the old town site. Mrs. Healy, well-advanced in age, recognized Peckford.

“Mrs. Healy remembered me reading all the time — it was fascinating,” he said.

Peckford writes about observations of family, politics and anything that catches her interest.

She wrote the Christmas poem a couple of years ago when her mother, who has been diagnosed with dementia, fell.

‘She lost a little of her Christmas when she became ill,” said Peckford. “I wrote that to remind her of our Christmas.”

Because her mother’s condition could develop into Alzheimer’s disease, “I am trying to remind her all of those good things that we as six children had. And it seems to work sometimes for her,” Peckford said.

 

 

My Christmas Memories

By Pamela Peckford

 

I truly love Christmas and the memories that unfold

I love the sound of jingle bells and even the winter cold

I appreciate the hustle as everyone goes about their way

But it’s my memories of long ago Christmases that are always here to stay

 

My mom always made sure that our stockings were laid out just so

We didn’t have a fireplace so where could Santa go?

“He knows you live here, he always comes each year”

As they tucked us into bed and whispered in our ear

 

“Now go to sleep all six of you or Santa will not show”

Our excitement lit our faces and our eyes were all aglow

And somehow, we all settle down I’m not sure how we managed sleep

Because we all wanted to see Santa, we did not make a peep

 

But he came without us knowing leaving gifts galore

I even looked for footprints outside our old front door

Our stockings were the best each one filled with care

Some grapes, a five-point apple and nuts and candy everywhere

 

Oh, look it’s a bottle of Coke please help me take off the top

I guzzle every drop of it I just could not stop

New socks for my feet they even got little toes

And mitts and hats and winter boots I’ll no longer be froze

 

“Oh, mom and dad, thank you, but how did Santa know...”

I wanted this crazy carpet to go sliding in the winter snow

Christmases of my childhood will always bring me smiles

And wishes for us to be together again, across the many miles

 

And the delight I get each Christmas as I trim my own little tree

Always bring back memories of the Christmases my parents gave to

Me.

 

clarence.ngoh@ganderbeacon.ca

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