Stuart and the spell of the season »

I miss Stuart McLean something fierce, especially in December. For years, a pilgrimage to his Vinyl Cafe Christmas show in Toronto was woven into the heart of my season.

It all began by accident. I’d gone to see the Vinyl Café show live when it visited St. Catharines and I was later raving about it over dinner with friends. Barb, our hostess that night, looked at me with a twinkle and said, “But have you ever been to the Christmas show?”

When I told her no, she lit up. Though she was Jewish, she had a soft spot for the emotion and wonder of Stuart’s holiday concert. She’d been going solo for years, comfortable in a theatre full of strangers who adored the same thing.

Right there at the table, we made a pact. That Christmas, we’d go together. And we did. Again and again. Convocation Hall, the Hummingbird, Massey Hall… each a stop on what became our private tradition. Among thousands of people, it always felt like we’d slipped into a small pocket of magic that belonged just to us.

I lost Barb before I was ready, and the Christmas shows ended before any of us were. But every time I hear the reprise of a Dave and Morley Christmas tale — or really any moment Stuart’s voice drifts back into my world — she’s right there at my elbow again. The memories carry that familiar bittersweet edge, the way the best ones often do. They still warm me. They still glow.

And every December, I find myself back in those halls with her, two friends in the dark, letting the lights of Stuart and the season work their simple, generous spell. 

• If you crave Stuart's voice and Dave and Morley stories as I do, you probably already know about the "Backstage at the Vinyl Café" podcast with Jess Milton. Jess was the Vinyl Café's producer for many years, so is in the unique position to augment recordings of Stuart with her own backstage stories, personal memories and fascinating insights. https://apostrophepodcasts.ca/vinylcafe/ 

And a lovely little epilogue: thanks to the wine industry, I later had the unexpected treat of meeting Ted Dekker, whom I instantly recognised as one of Stuart’s Christmas show regulars. I’d watched him perform countless times, never imagining we’d eventually cross paths in my own corner of the world. Getting to know him better has felt like one more gentle thread tying past to present — a reminder that some stories keep echoing long after the curtain falls.