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THURSDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2024
C hristmas W riting C ontest WINNERS
horses on the road. Yet she could no more bring them back than she could insist cars use headlights or drive more carefully on darkened country roads. With their pass- ing, a way of life was fading. So too, for my Steinbach grandma, Maria Friesen Reimer, 1904-1994. Much had changed in her life and she shared wistful stories over her kitch-
searched the windswept prairie in vain for King and Queen. They were family, brother and sis- ter, bred by her father for strong muscles and flashy trotting from his best Hackney mare, Nel- ly—the children’s favorite too. Yet the pair were also highly sensitive, like be- nevolent spirits who had given their wisdom, strength, and grace to help the family through the toughest times. Where could they be? Per- haps injured and hobbled in the biting cold? She shivered from fear of what their loss might mean to her father. The driver followed her inside to meet Maria’s parents. “Here’s your daughter, safe and sound.” “But where are my horses?” Her father frowned. Maria felt the sting of being swept aside for the horses but also understood deeply. She went quietly to bed, whispering their names. “King and Queen, keep them safe tonight, please.” She heard her father rising before dawn, pull- ing on his boots and jacket, loading his rifle and tromping out the door. A chill ran through the house. Maria filled the woodstove and mixed yeast for bread, hoping Dad would soon find King and Queen alive and well. Hours passed and finally Dad appeared in the lane, a lone man shuffling along with his rifle, head bent. A burst of cold air and stomping boots on the rag-braided rug announced his return. “Found ‘em miles from home, huddled to- gether, with broken legs.” He hung his jacket and turned to Maria. “Had to shoot them both.” He had been one of the foremost breeders of Hackney horses in Manitoba, loved their wide, muscled chests, arched necks and trotting style. As machines took over, he had been one of the last to give them up. Maria wept. King and Queen had protected and carried them through darkness and light, blizzards and downpours. They had served the family in poverty and shielded them from ruin all these years. They were some of the last dray
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F lying snow nipped at Maria’s nose and cheeks and nearly blinded her. Yet the dray team, King and Queen, pulled hard towards home after errands in Steinbach, sure-footed as ever on a drifted road. Maria tied her scarf tighter around auburn curls escaping her crown-wrapped braids and tucked the lap blanket tighter around her chilly legs. A kerosene lantern hung from the wagon and shone faintly along a road as white as the ditch. But she had little to fear with Dad’s prize Hackney team leading the way. She was 17, born before Ford’s first Model T hit the streets of De- troit. How could people so easily replace their guardians who knew the way no matter the chore or weather? King and Queen had hauled thousands of deliveries to Steinbach from the train station in Giroux and graveled Main Street with tons of stones quarried from surrounding borrow pits. Suddenly, out of the darkness shot a car with- out headlights. It crashed into King and Queen, breaking their harness and hitting the wagon. The horses scattered into the night and Maria landed, crumpled in the wagon wreckage. A man in a heavy coat emerged from the car. He stumbled through the debris and met Maria struggling to her feet. His car was damaged but still running so he offered to take her home. She hesitated searching the darkness. “The horses,” she said, “I have to find the horses.” Dad would not be impressed if she came home without them. But they had fled and were no- where to be seen. All the way home in the stranger’s car, Maria
en table in the mid-70s when I lived in Steinbach and reported for The Carillon News . With the passing of each life, a library dies. For grandma, that library contained priceless trea- sures, ancient recipes she knew by heart for borscht, Wareneki, and Christmas “pay-pa-nate.” It brimmed with precious promises—special vers-
es chosen for each fami- ly member. It overflowed with her creative genius for quality quilts, stylish hats, girls’ dresses, boys’ shirts, knitted toques and mittens. Always she remembered her 11 children and their fami- lies, praying for us each by name daily. She also sent Christmas gifts to grandchildren scattered around the globe. These might be handmade aprons and kitchen orga- nizers, small recipe books and family-history pho- to albums. And, once, a Christmas tea towel with farm houses, snow drifts, and horse-drawn carriag- es.
C hristmas would never have come; Had the Holy Spirit not intervened; Had the Child not been conceived; Had there been no manger scene. But Christmas did come, and so did we; To give and to take up the call, to love and encourage, to sing to the weak; a celebration so cherished by all. Yes, Christmas will go, the carols and glow, the tinsels and tinkering gear. Christmas is a door through which we can go, to meet the new year. Christmas hope by Alfred Dueck ROSENORT, MB ADULT POETRY
204-434-6519
To all our customers and associates, we thank you for supporting us in 202 4 , and look forward to serving you in 202 5 ! Last sale of the year will be December 1 7 th and the first in the New Year will be January 7 th.
HOLIDAY HOURS: Closed Dec. 25-26 & Jan. 1
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year From the Council and Staff of the R.M. of La Broquerie
As the holiday season approaches, we would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your business and support. May your holiday season and New Year be filled with lots of joy, peace, health, happiness and much success! We look forward to working with you in the coming year. Happy Holidays!
Joyeux Noël et Bonne Année
De la part du conseil et des employés de la Municipalité rurale de La Broquerie
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