The day started for me at 3:30am with
my dad Pascal hollering, “Buck Shot Sorrels to get up and make fire.”
The floor was cold as I ran downstairs
to stoke the embers and add small pieces of wood. It was roaring in no time,
and the warmth on my face sure felt nice. I stood there for a time by the stove
heating up my butt with my dog Badger.
We lived at the south end of Williams
Lake, where my mom Phyllis and my dad had a small ranch; the year would have
been 1967. The weather outside was frightful, must have been 40 below, with the
wind howling and waist deep snow. My chores started out with watering the
horses, so I grabbed the axe and headed to the barn. Rossco, my dad’s roping
and dogging horse, would spot me and come running with the other horses
following suit. I would jump on his back and head to the watering hole, full
gallop. With the moonlight hitting the snow, it would make it look like
diamonds.
We all had things to do including my
older brothers, Morris* and Bernie, who
would be loading hay on the wagon to feed the cows.
It was the day before Christmas and I
tingled with excitement, chasing the cows around while they were feeding, while
riding my horse Little Guy. I think he liked it as much as me.
Making our way home, Bernie would be
throwing snowballs at me, and then Morris would wash his face with snow. As we
walked into the house the smell of bacon and fried potatoes is a memory I’ll
never forget – my mom was a great cook.
My dad had got the Christmas tree out
where he was working in the Black Creek area. It was a huge Fir, and the scent
was almost as amazing as my mom’s cooking. She told us, as the day went on, to
be good and stay close to home, and that we were going to Midnight Mass at the
Mission.
This was one of my favorite times of
the year. We would all get dressed up in white shirts and ties. When we got to
the church at the Mission around 11:30pm the bid doors were open, and all the
people, dressed so nicely, were singing Christmas carols.
Merry Christmas, Buckie Bates **
*Elvis
tribute artist Morris Bates dies at 69 - Member
of the Williams Lake Indian Band, Bates went on to be an international
headliner on the Las Vegas strip
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