Category Archives: Charitable organization

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A Naden Band Christmas

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Without wanting to sound like a Grinch, November is just too early for Christmas music for me.

I mean, COME ON. Two months of nothing but Christmas music?? It’s on the radio, in the stores, at the mall, on my husband’s car playlist. It’s omnipotent.

And it drives me nuts.

Not only that, but every artist and her uncle has to release their version of every single Christmas song ever penned.

Why? Because Yuletide music is a big money maker. Just like all of the Christmas merchandise showing up on Costco shelves in early October.

Okay, so I AM a bit grinchy.

But now that I’ve got that off my chest, there is one Christmas music tradition that never disappoints. And it’s usually in the appropriate month of December too.

It’s the annual Naden Band Christmas concert, which has been a tradition in Victoria for more than 40 years. Even when COVID was cramping our style, the Naden Band streamed their concert so we wouldn’t have to miss it.

We often think of the Naden Band as part of our local parades, but they have performed all over the world for many different events, along with their more traditional performances.

Only days before we attended this year’s concert, the Naden Band had been at Canadian Forces Base Esquimalt to welcome back two navy ships, HMCS Vancouver and Winnipeg, as hundreds of sailors returned from months of deployment in the Indo-Pacific region.

The Naden Christmas concert was in conjunction with the Salvation Army’s holiday toy drive. The ticket price was very reasonable (are you paying attention Taylor Swift?), and each audience member was encouraged to bring one unwrapped toy.

The theme of this year’s concert intrigued me. It was “Hygge”.

Most of you have at least heard of hygge over the last few years, but for those of you who haven’t, let me exercise my Scandinavian heritage.

Hygge, which originated in Norway but was made popular in Denmark, is all about getting cozy and finding comfort. It might be found in a hot toddy by the fire, or curling up with a good book. It has a similar origin as the word “hug”. Whatever brings you contentment, that’s hygge.

Mostly, I was curious as to how the Naden concert people would pronounce it. Scandinavian languages have a sound all their own and the word hygge is no exception. Online you’ll see it described “hoo-ga”, but that’s not really it.

No, it’s more like a hacking sound from deep in the throat, followed by “gi” as in the word give. Okay, that doesn’t sound very cozy-like, does it?

So we’ll move on.

This year’s musical evening was fabulous, as usual. The Naden Band performed everything from traditional Christmas songs like I Saw Three Ships and Joy To The World, to less traditional ones like Fairytale of New York.

Among my favourites were songs from A Charlie Brown Christmas (Linus and Lucy gets me every time) and I’m Dreaming of Home, which featured the Pipes And Drums of the Canadian Scottish Regiment. There’s nothing quite like the sound of the pipes, is there?

The Royal Canadian Navy’s Naden Band, if you don’t already know, is a group of amazing, top notch musicians. Whenever a musical piece calls for a solo performance, you really get to hear how talented they are. And playing music is a full time position for 34 military musicians, so they practice A LOT.

Another highlight of the evening was when an audience member was chosen to conduct the band for the song Sleigh Ride. During the intermission, anyone who was interested could add their name to the draw.

A few minutes into the second half, a name was picked out of the box. It was a magical moment for all of us. The name drawn was one of the sailors who had returned from deployment only days before. It was something right out of a Hallmark movie script.

If you have never attended the Naden Band’s Christmas concert, I highly recommend it. There are usually several performance dates to choose from, including a matinee show.

And now I want you to mark this day and time on your calendars: December 26, 12:01am. That’s when the Christmas music ends, okay??

Save Juno Beach

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Juno Beach, June 6, 2017

On an early morning in June a few years back, my husband and I got up to catch a train from Paris to Caen, a town in the Normandy region of northern France. From there, we were to meet up with a tour bus that would take us to Juno Beach, one of the beaches invaded by allied forces on D-Day.

My father, a history buff who served in the RCAF during World War II, had mentioned D-Day many times to me when I was younger. But it took this visit to make the events of that day very real for me.

The Allied invasion of the north coast of France in 1944 included Juno, Utah, Omaha, Gold and Sword beaches, involving U.S., British and Canadian forces.

It just so happened that our little tour bus rolled into Juno Beach on the anniversary of D-Day, June 6th. The weather on our tour was apparently similar to the weather leading up to the invasion, with a lot of wind and rain showers.

The beach itself is huge, and the area includes several bunkers, tanks and monuments, along with the Juno Beach Centre, which is a museum and memorial. Along the beach you’ll also see Canada House, which was the first house to be liberated by allied troops on that day.

We stood at the bunkers imagining the terror and the pain that these young men must have endured, and we walked along the beach where so many of them lost their lives. We choked up as we stood and sang Oh Canada inside the Juno Beach Centre during a ceremony to mark the anniversary.

As the rain and wind kicked up on our walk past Canada House, we were invited inside. This was a rare experience, we were told. Tourists aren’t usually allowed inside, but they felt sorry for us because of the inclement weather.

The moment that really stood out for me, however, happened when we were returning to our tour bus at the end of the day. An older man who lived nearby walked up to us and asked us if we were Canadian. When we told him we were, indeed, he thanked us and our country for our part in D-Day.

And as we drove through the streets of Courseulles-sur-Mer up behind Juno Beach, we saw houses with little Canadian flags on their lawns to mark the occasion. The entire day was a profound experience for both my husband and I.

But I was floored recently when I read a story of how local French developers want to build 70 condos on this historic site. A “questionable” municipal land deal handed these developers a large piece of land right next to the Juno Beach Centre.

There has been plenty of local opposition to it, and two years’ worth of litigation, which has all been paid for by the Centre. But to no avail.

A website called savejunobeach.ca has been set up to encourage Canadians to write to our MPs and to donate to the Juno Beach Centre Association so that they can continue to fight for this historic site. As we all know, once development starts, it doesn’t stop.

It was through the hard work of veterans that the Juno Beach Centre was built in the first place, and it is solely supported by volunteers and donations. And now, as the website says, “The legacy that our veterans built for future generations may disappear entirely.”

We need these sacred places, if only to remind us of the past and what those generations before us sacrificed for us. While the world witnesses a brutal invasion by another mad man, the saying “those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” is more relevant than ever.

We have to save Juno Beach. Let we forget.

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Knock, Knock

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Well, ’tis the season once again. Three times in one week, we’ve had a knock at the door from canvassers. It’s been kind of quiet at the front door for the last year-and-a-half, other than the odd package arriving, so the sudden “deluge” surprised me.

Two of the door knockers were looking for donations for their organizations. The other was from a political party regarding the upcoming Federal election. As soon as I answered the door the first time, I thought “Doh! Should have hidden in the bathroom.” Instead I was stuck there listening to the spiel.

I try to look polite and patient, but I’m sure they can see the “Oh my lord, can we get this over with?” haze in my eyes. I was a canvasser for a political party many, many years ago so I know that disengaged look well.

As soon as you open the door and realize who’s in front of you, there’s a momentary panic. What do I do? How do I end this? A couple of times in past when I’ve been in a particularly bad state, I’ve just cut a canvasser off with a quick “Not interested,” and closed the door. But then I feel bad.

Most of the time, I let them finish their pitch and, as politely as I can, tell them I’d rather not contribute.

Occasionally, I actually do hide in the bathroom.

Two of the canvassers last week were young women, intelligent, well spoken and sincere. They had their speeches down pat from having to repeat it many times. But as soon as I see one of those electronic credit card units in their hands, I know they’re trying to lock me into a lifetime of financial commitment to their cause.

I mean, they would be most happy if we all pledged monthly donations for the rest of eternity to the organizations they are so passionate about. I get that.

The reality is that none of us can support absolutely every cause and every emergency that comes up. Well, maybe 1% can.

I made the decision years ago to pick the organizations I wanted to support, and then set up a regular financial contribution to them. And when I have my wits about me, I remember to tell the canvassers that before things progress too much. But I’m out of practice.

I also feel for political party canvassers, especially now. It’s always been difficult to be out there knocking on the doors of people who clearly can’t stand your politics. But these days, there’s even more nastiness out there than usual, and an election just gives some people another excuse to bicker, bellow and blame.

I’m trying to make myself remember that first part of Dr. Bonnie Henry’s motto: be kind.

Oh, and speaking of the election, here’s one for you:

Knock, knock!

Who’s there?

Gladys.

Gladys who?

Gladys Almostover.