A Pioneer Christmas
On this last Christmas of Canada’s first century, let us pause for a moment to reflect on the ghosts of Christmases past – the pioneers who cleared the wilderness which is now Etobicoke. Let us ponder briefly how those early township residents celebrated the birth of Christ.
Few could spare the cost of sending gifts to friends and relatives in the Old World. Those who did send relics of the New World had to ship them by ocean vessel months in advance – for the Atlantic was much wider in those days. Most early settlers exchanged presents of jams, preserves or cakes – or an item of handicraft – if they were fortunate enough to find the raw materials needed in the local general store.
Christmas trees, cut within shouting distance of the house, were dragged home and decorated with strings of dried apples, local nuts, homemade candy, paper, and, to brighten the occasion, a few candles. Branches from the trees were placed behind pictures and in earthenware jugs to give the parlour a festive look.
The children expected and received simple gifts. For a little girl, perhaps a handmade rag doll. For her brother, papa would make a wagon or some other wooden toy. Often, there would be a new dress or other item of apparel fashioned from sugar or flour sacks or even died with beet juice or brown tea. Making do with what one had was the thinking. One rarely thinks of the homesteader in brightly-coloured clothes, for few but the comfortably off could afford such luxuries.
The Christmas Repast more often than not had its main attraction in a plump wild bird which had fallen prey to father’s gun. It would be stuffed with dressing made from last week’s bread and spices carefully saved for the event. For dessert there were puddings made from apples and carrots.
No matter how cold the morning or how deep the snow, Christmas Day always began with the Church service, which for many necessitated a lengthy or certainly invigorating journey by buggy or sleigh, depending upon the state of the roads. Church, of course, was as much a social as a religious occasion, and often was the only contact one had with the neighbours from one Sunday to the next.
On the way home from the prayer meeting or hymn sing, there was a drop-in visit to the house of a friend where the men would have a drink of cider and the women a bit of neighbourhood gossip – while the young fry would exclaim over the tree.
Some families would stop off for a snack - or the men for a drink - at Montgomery’s Tavern, a centre of community activity since 1830. Imagine how it must have looked then, with its smoke house and stables at the rear. Dundas Street in front was then just a dirt trail leading to the Niagara Peninsula. Hills led down from Dundas to Mimico Creek where children careened on their home-made sleds down the slope. On the creek itself, where they swam in summer, skaters dashed by, red of face and long of scarf.
To the east nestled the small structure of St. George’s Anglican Church on-the-Hill. Beyond that was the Howland Mill and to the south, the Old Mill – now stark and gaunt yet a proud ruin to look upon.
And who were these families of those Christmases of yesteryear? You may not remember them now, but you likely know their names – Creeches, Deaths, Garbutts, Wardlaws, Marshalls, Coulters, Wadsworths, Culnans, Masons, Johnstons. Yes, and the Gardhouses, the Applebys, the Agars, the Bryans and the Montgomerys. Then there were the Claytons, the Cannings, the Silverthorns, the Stonehouses, the Moores, the Browns, the Shavers and the MacPhersons. And we mustn’t forget the Coopers, the Fishers, the Tyers, the Mussons, the Wards, the Culhams, the Stocks, the McFarlanes, the Johnsons, the Woods, the Mercers, and the Howlands, and all the other fine old families of very early Etobicoke – a century ago.
Life in those times was hardly exciting by present-day standards. People learned and earned as best they could. Their fortitude, forbearance and acceptance made daily living a goal in itself. Stopping for brief moments to observe their faith in God, they would get on again with the business of survival. That was the way life was and it was what life demanded of them. The world was rough but uncomplicated. In many ways we can envy those who lived so long ago, for life was straight-forward. There were not the “Gimmicks” and “Angles” there are today…
O ghosts of Christmases past - we still remember. Next June 24th as part of our Centennial program, the Etobicoke Historical Society will honour you by holding a party at Montgomery’s Inn for your descendants. There are those of you who would tear down your old inn. But there are also many who revere that time-honoured landmark as a monument to your courage and as a tribute to all of you who settled here so many years ago. Your whisperings may still be heard through the ancient walls of the Inn, when we take time to pause and listen closely.
But this is Christmas 1966. The TV is blaring. The auto horns are screeching. This is Christmas a-go-go! To all of you in this affluent society with its accent on speed and youth, may your Christmas be a merry one. And bright, man!
Vera Halhead lived in Etobicoke from 1961 until her death in 1996. During this time, she devoted countless hours to many community causes. She was a founding member of the Etobicoke Historical Society. She was an editor for the Etobicoke Press and wrote for the Toronto Star and Toronto Telegram. Vera was admitted to the Etobicoke Hall of Fame after her death.
To read the full story of her accomplishments, see the Hall of Fame website HERE.
Originally Written by Vera Halhed. Originally published in 1966, just before Canada’s Centennial, and reprinted here in 2017 for Canada’s Sesquicentennial. Abridged and with minor editing by Denise Harris & Michael FitzGerald.
Few could spare the cost of sending gifts to friends and relatives in the Old World. Those who did send relics of the New World had to ship them by ocean vessel months in advance – for the Atlantic was much wider in those days. Most early settlers exchanged presents of jams, preserves or cakes – or an item of handicraft – if they were fortunate enough to find the raw materials needed in the local general store.
Christmas trees, cut within shouting distance of the house, were dragged home and decorated with strings of dried apples, local nuts, homemade candy, paper, and, to brighten the occasion, a few candles. Branches from the trees were placed behind pictures and in earthenware jugs to give the parlour a festive look.
The children expected and received simple gifts. For a little girl, perhaps a handmade rag doll. For her brother, papa would make a wagon or some other wooden toy. Often, there would be a new dress or other item of apparel fashioned from sugar or flour sacks or even died with beet juice or brown tea. Making do with what one had was the thinking. One rarely thinks of the homesteader in brightly-coloured clothes, for few but the comfortably off could afford such luxuries.
The Christmas Repast more often than not had its main attraction in a plump wild bird which had fallen prey to father’s gun. It would be stuffed with dressing made from last week’s bread and spices carefully saved for the event. For dessert there were puddings made from apples and carrots.
No matter how cold the morning or how deep the snow, Christmas Day always began with the Church service, which for many necessitated a lengthy or certainly invigorating journey by buggy or sleigh, depending upon the state of the roads. Church, of course, was as much a social as a religious occasion, and often was the only contact one had with the neighbours from one Sunday to the next.
On the way home from the prayer meeting or hymn sing, there was a drop-in visit to the house of a friend where the men would have a drink of cider and the women a bit of neighbourhood gossip – while the young fry would exclaim over the tree.
Some families would stop off for a snack - or the men for a drink - at Montgomery’s Tavern, a centre of community activity since 1830. Imagine how it must have looked then, with its smoke house and stables at the rear. Dundas Street in front was then just a dirt trail leading to the Niagara Peninsula. Hills led down from Dundas to Mimico Creek where children careened on their home-made sleds down the slope. On the creek itself, where they swam in summer, skaters dashed by, red of face and long of scarf.
To the east nestled the small structure of St. George’s Anglican Church on-the-Hill. Beyond that was the Howland Mill and to the south, the Old Mill – now stark and gaunt yet a proud ruin to look upon.
And who were these families of those Christmases of yesteryear? You may not remember them now, but you likely know their names – Creeches, Deaths, Garbutts, Wardlaws, Marshalls, Coulters, Wadsworths, Culnans, Masons, Johnstons. Yes, and the Gardhouses, the Applebys, the Agars, the Bryans and the Montgomerys. Then there were the Claytons, the Cannings, the Silverthorns, the Stonehouses, the Moores, the Browns, the Shavers and the MacPhersons. And we mustn’t forget the Coopers, the Fishers, the Tyers, the Mussons, the Wards, the Culhams, the Stocks, the McFarlanes, the Johnsons, the Woods, the Mercers, and the Howlands, and all the other fine old families of very early Etobicoke – a century ago.
Life in those times was hardly exciting by present-day standards. People learned and earned as best they could. Their fortitude, forbearance and acceptance made daily living a goal in itself. Stopping for brief moments to observe their faith in God, they would get on again with the business of survival. That was the way life was and it was what life demanded of them. The world was rough but uncomplicated. In many ways we can envy those who lived so long ago, for life was straight-forward. There were not the “Gimmicks” and “Angles” there are today…
O ghosts of Christmases past - we still remember. Next June 24th as part of our Centennial program, the Etobicoke Historical Society will honour you by holding a party at Montgomery’s Inn for your descendants. There are those of you who would tear down your old inn. But there are also many who revere that time-honoured landmark as a monument to your courage and as a tribute to all of you who settled here so many years ago. Your whisperings may still be heard through the ancient walls of the Inn, when we take time to pause and listen closely.
But this is Christmas 1966. The TV is blaring. The auto horns are screeching. This is Christmas a-go-go! To all of you in this affluent society with its accent on speed and youth, may your Christmas be a merry one. And bright, man!
Vera Halhead lived in Etobicoke from 1961 until her death in 1996. During this time, she devoted countless hours to many community causes. She was a founding member of the Etobicoke Historical Society. She was an editor for the Etobicoke Press and wrote for the Toronto Star and Toronto Telegram. Vera was admitted to the Etobicoke Hall of Fame after her death.
To read the full story of her accomplishments, see the Hall of Fame website HERE.
Originally Written by Vera Halhed. Originally published in 1966, just before Canada’s Centennial, and reprinted here in 2017 for Canada’s Sesquicentennial. Abridged and with minor editing by Denise Harris & Michael FitzGerald.