When Bob Hutchinson talks about Christmas, he does not hesitate. “Oh God,” he laughs. “You want to know about Christmas when I was really young? I just enjoyed Christmas.” Bob was born in 1945 in London, Ontario, though he grew up in Sarnia. Now 80 years old, he is quick with a joke, sharp in […]
When Bob Hutchinson talks about Christmas, he does not hesitate.
“Oh God,” he laughs. “You want to know about Christmas when I was really young? I just enjoyed Christmas.”
Bob was born in 1945 in London, Ontario, though he grew up in Sarnia. Now 80 years old, he is quick with a joke, sharp in his memory, and full of stories that come easily once Christmas is mentioned.
As a child, Bob knew exactly how Christmas worked. Like many families at the time, gift ideas came straight from a catalogue.
“The Eaton’s catalogue,” he says. “You circled what you wanted for Christmas. I would sit with it, and circle everything I wanted”
And more often than not, those wishes came true.
“It was quite funny,” Bob says. “I got most of what I wanted. And more. I was spoiled.”
He credits part of that to his grandfather, who lived with the family.
“I was named after my great-grandfather,” he explains. “So he always had a soft spot for me. I got a lot of stuff. I had a good time.”
Christmas dinner followed a familiar pattern, one that Bob still remembers clearly.
“Oh, turkey,” he says. “With potatoes, gravy. All the fixings.”
Turnip was always on the table too, something Bob remains unapologetic about.
“And turnip,” he laughs. “I love turnip. You don't see turnip as much anymore. I love turnip!”
Bob grew up on a farm, and life there was busy. Very busy.
“My dad used to say, ‘We work hard and we play hard,’” he recalls.
There was always something to do.
“Never, ever bored,” Bob says.
The family raised beef cattle, kept chickens and pigs, and grew much of their own food.
“We ate what we raised,” he says.
“Every year,” Bob says. “You’d keep one for yourself. You'd keep a pig, and you'd keep a chicken.”
Christmas still meant a pause from the work, but not from responsibility. It was woven into the rhythm of farm life rather than set apart from it.
Faith also played a role in Bob’s Christmas memories. He remembers church and school celebrations clearly.
“We went to church. And school too. We had big celebrations at both the church and school,” he says.
At Christmas, the school put on a concert.
“We all did our little things,” Bob says. “Plays, recitations, singing.”
It is something he feels has faded over time.
“That’s kind of a lost art nowadays,” he says.
Bob met his wife Judy when he was just 18 years old, thanks to a friend who decided to play matchmaker.
“He says, ‘There’s this girl that wants to go with you,’” Bob recalls. “I didn’t even really know what she looked like.”
They went on a date anyway.
“And that’s the rest of the story,” he says, smiling.
They have now been married for 60 years.
“A good life,” Bob says.
Together, they raised three children. Their son passed away in 2007, something Bob mentions quietly.
“I had a boy,” he says. “My boy died in 2007. Christmas was different after that too.”
He also has two daughters, a granddaughter, and great-grandchildren, though even he admits it can be hard to keep track of all the new faces.
“The great-grandkids all merge into one mentally,” he jokes. “But they’re all good kids.”
Christmas, Bob says, has always been especially magical for children.
“Christmas is for kids. It's always so special to see the excitement from the kids.”
Looking back, Bob sees how the season has changed.
“It’s too commercial now,” he says plainly. “Way too commercial.”
For him, Christmas was never about the gifts.
“It was about enjoying it,” Bob says. “Being together.”
Today, Judy still visits him often, bringing home-cooked meals.
“I can’t stand the food here,” Bob says with a laugh. “When you've been spoiled by my wife's food, nothing compares. Her cooking is the best, Christmas or not.”
But he remains grateful, grounded, and content, still quick with humour and memories.
For Bob Hutchinson, Christmas is remembered as something honest and joyful, shaped by family, faith, and simple traditions that never needed much to feel complete.
It was a season you circled in a catalogue, sat down to at the table, and enjoyed a homecooked meal as a family.
