Memories of New Year's Past


...each fall, my Dad used to hunt a seabird, known in Nfld. as a terr ....

Talk of New Year's Eve festivities always reminds me of the year my parents decided that they would host the New Year's Eve party for their group of friends. There were about eight couples in "their group" that got together every year to ring in the New Year.

One couple was my Mom's sister, Mary and her husband. My Aunt Mary was truly one of the funniest people I knew. She was jolly and good-natured, but also looked for pranks to play (she was devilish, my Mother would say).

Now, we lived in a small house (eight hundred square feet on two stories). Our living room was about twelve by fourteen feet. I remember that was the year my parents rolled up the carpet mat off the living room floor and stuck it out in the tiny hallway. The objective being that this left the hardwood floor bare, for dancing. I recall that the hallway was so small that the rolled carpet took up almost the whole passageway and it was then difficult to squeeze past it to get to the bathroom.

Another couple was Uncle Abe (name has been changed to protect the innocent), who had been my Dad's best friend since birth and Abe's wife, Lizzy, who was thrown into a friendship with my Mom, due to the men's connection. Lizzy was known to have a temper and was quite bossy to Abe, even though he didn't pay much attention to what she had to say, truth be known.

Uncle Abe played (if you could call it that) a squeeze-box accordion. He brought it along to every get together and, as the evening wore on, his playing became increasingly sloppy and his repertoire more limited. Finally, he would be down to the one song "Hallelujah, I'm a Bum" and he would sit in the corner and sing it over and over and over again.

My Aunt Mary was always teasing my Dad because he was quite a reserved and bashful man, in his way. He liked to have fun, but not to be at the centre of the laughter. Part way through the night Aunt Mary grabbed my Dad up to dance a Newfie jig with her. Dad was not very good at dancing; in fact he was described by my mother as being "stiff as a poker." You couldn't say no to Mary, though, so up he got. She got to linking arms with him and swinging around, when all of a sudden she turned to face my father and yanked her dress up, almost over her head. There, pinned to the fork of her underpants was a bunch of plastic grapes that she had taken out of my mother's fruit bowl in the kitchen when no one was looking. My poor father blushed up to the tips of his ears. All he could manage to say was, "My, Mary, you're shockin'." Indeed we could all agree, Mary was shocking, but still a great bit of fun. The night was only warming up!

Each fall, my Dad used to hunt a seabird, known in Nfld. as a terr. We didn't have a lot of money and terrs were good eating (at least some thought so). That year the hunting was good and we had more than thirty terrs frozen in the freezer. Terrs were not very big; maybe the size of a quail; but thirty of them would be plenty to feed the number of people they had invited to this party.

There's something you have to understand before I go any further. That is that Newfoundlanders HAVE to feed you. It is essential to their very being and you do NOT have a choice in this matter. If you go into a Newfoundlander's home, you cannot leave until you have had at least a cup of tea. Of course you cannot have tea without at least a sweet biscuit or some cheese and crackers. Before long the 'missus has the tablecloth spread and you're committed for at least another hour. This is not just the pure hospitality that Newfoundlanders are renowned for; this is because all Newfoundland women suffer from a Mother Theresa complex and think it is their duty in life to feed the wayward, or at least those that pass through their door. If you try to refuse, you can see the look of challenge come over them. Then they try to coax. "Come on, you don't need to rush off, now. The kettle's already hot and 'tis no bother at all." If you still try to slip away, sheer desperation takes hold. The missus will do everything short of lying on the floor, holding your pant leg to get you to stay. You may start to think it's just as well you give in right away and save yourself some time and effort. You do have to be careful here and play the game right (and don't delude yourself into thinking this is not a game). If you seem too anxious and accept the offer of a "cup o' tea" too quickly, when you leave she'll turn to her husband and say, "The poor thing, they couldn't have had a mouthful all day. Are they hard up for money do you'spose?" So as not to be considered a charity case, you must at least decline the first two offers, saying "no" with a little less enthusiasm each time and then gratefully accepting the third offer. Most Newfie women know their way around a kitchen and a good number of them could put out a spread fit for the Queen herself. There are other poor mortals, however, who don't know that the pot of tea you brewed at eight this morning is not going to be tasting very pleasant by nine at night. You, never, however, let on but that this was the best cup of tea you ever had in your life.

Here I am, gone off on tangents again. As I was saying, Newfies use any excuse to feed you. So, my parent's New Year's party was going to involve the cooking of the thirty terrs. This would not be done at dinner time, as most folks would do, the feast would be spread after the midnight celebration. My mother had the oven full of roasting pans (some she even borrowed for the occasion) chock full of terrs that slow roasted all evening. Now, for any of you who have not had the dubious pleasure of having tasted terrs, let me describe them. They are black as boot leather and taste like a combination of fish and wild game. I never have liked them, but my folks and their friends thought there was nothing better.

Round about one in the morning, my Mother and the other ladies laid out the feast. Uncle Abe had been singing "Hallelujah, I'm a Bum" for the past hour or more. He was well "in his cups" and was now experiencing a serious case of "the munchies." By the time he finished the rendition of his song, all the other guests were lined up at the buffet table. Everyone else took one terr (to start) and a helping of the mashed potatoes, dumplings and rich, black gravy that are served with the dish.

If you have done the math; sixteen guests, fifteen of them take one terr each (Abe is last in line) and there are thirty terrs. That leaves fifteen terrs. Most of the women would only eat one but most of the men would go back for a second, or possibly even a third. That was the usual order of things, anyway. Well, not that night! Abe took the whole pot of remaining fifteen terrs and sat down and ate the entire thing! Everyone looked on in amazement as they had never seen anyone eat so much. Of course, no one would say a word in case they insulted Lizzy (Abe's wife). Abe was far too inebriated to care what anyone thought but Lizzy was not a drinker and was definitely feeling the embarrassment of her husband's bout of gluttony. After eating all of the food, the party finally wound down at about three a.m. and all went home. Abe was so full he could barely move. I have no idea how they managed to get him home that night.

The finale of the story came two days later when Lizzy called my mother. Apparently the greedy Abe, Lizzy was happy to report, had been camped out in the bathroom ever since returning from the party. Retributive justice had prevailed! I've often heard the expression "Everything in moderation." Seems that applies to terrs as well as alcohol.

So remember folks, on New Year's Eve, if you are at a gala, think of the gastronomic suffering of poor ole Uncle Abe and show some restraint.

From me and mine to you and yours, have a prosperous 2003.

© Newfie June




Send comments to: Newfie June

If you have any ideas how to make our country better - Send your comments to: Canadian Ideas
Thanks for your help
best regards
www.CanadianCulture.com

Get Involved!
Your Ideas are Important!
Content is contributed by various Canadians and does not necessarily reflect the views of canadianculture.com.