November 1995 WEST VANCOUVER HISTORICAL SOCIETY Page 5 Ckyji i ^ â-º epji/ a t i oM i~„ py ipitc o t t^p a d Christmas preparations began with red and green paper chains. Constructed in art class at Hollybum School, they were tucked carefully into my lunch kit against the ravages of winter weather on my homeward trek to Eastcot Road. Ours was the sixth house built on the British Pacific Properties. We moved in on the 19th of September, 1940, among a cluster of homes near Eastcot and Hadden. Behind our house was the seventh fairway of the Capilano Golf Course, a magical expanse of playground which my younger brothers and I enjoyed illicitly, especially during snowy Christmas holidays. From the kitchen windows my mother could see through the sparse trees of the bridle path along the edge of the fairway right to the seventh green. In the early mornings a family of coyotes played in and out of the bunkers. In the afternoons we pulled our sled along to the slopes of the same bunkers and to the little hill leading down to the eighth tee. When we were older, we took cumbersome skis belonging to our aunts and taught ourselves to ski on the slope of the sixth fairway. Wartime rationing challenged every cook’s ingenuity at Christmastime. Mother saved up ration stamps and watched for advertisements of necessary groceries at the Safeway at the northeast comer of 16th and Marine in West Van or at Woodward’s Food Floor over town. The wartime Christmas when rationing was most restrictive and when Father fitted blue cardboard over all the windows in the house for the blackout was a Elinor's brother, Bill Miller, on the path to the seventh faim’ay -1943 By Elinor Miller Martin particular trial for Mother. That year she somehow managed to cater Father’s dental study club dinner and provide a festive meal for our extended family. Wartime restrictions also meant second-hand toys and hand-made gifts which were all wrapped in tissue paper and placed around the wooden stand that held the Christmas tree. Finding the tree was a project for a Thursday afternoon. Father’s half-day off. Hefting a newly-sharpened axe, he would set out with his children to select the most likely specimen along the bridle path, or perhaps even farther away, along Rabbit Lane, on the north side of the eighth fairway. In its stand in the comer of the living room, perilously close to the fireplace, the tree would be swathed in temperamental lights with aging tinfoil reflectors, the red and green paper chains from school augmented by more chains made at the dining room table, and vintage ornaments of unusual design. A glass of milk and two of Mother’s precious shortbread cookies placed on the coffee table as a treat for Santa, and we were ready for Christmas. The snow, the isolation, and the dark forest around a warm house filled with anticipation created memorable images of Christmas on Eastcot Road. Elinor Miller Martin retired from West Vancouver Secondary School in 1993. She how has time to research and write about her family history.