Merry Christmas Stuart, A Love Letter to the Christmas Stories of 'The Vinyl Cafe'

From 'Dave Cooks the Turkey' to 'Ferrets for Christmas', these are stories that have become the soundtrack to my holidays...

Christmas, more than any other holiday, is synonymous with stories.

There’s the original story, of course, about the baby in the manger that represented peace on Earth and goodwill towards mankind.

Then there’s the stories from history. The fourth-century saint who brought gifts to the poor. Or the soldiers in the trenches in 1914 who laid down their arms and celebrated the holiday together.

And, of course, there’s the fictional ones. The cruel man who was visited by three ghosts on Christmas Eve and decided to change his ways. Or the human raised by elves who decides to reconnect with his roots in New York City.

But, for me, the greatest Christmas story ever told begins like this:

“When Carl Lowbeer bought his wife Gerta ‘The Complete Christmas Planner’, he did not understand what he was doing.”

Dave Cooks The Turkey

If you listened to CBC Radio at any point in December between 1996 and 2016, you probably have at least a passing familiarity with the story I’m talking about. It’s called “Dave Cooks the Turkey” and was written and performed by acclaimed Canadian storyteller Stuart McLean for his show, The Vinyl Cafe.

The Vinyl Cafe aired from 1992 until 2017 on the CBC, and it featured a mix of music and storytelling. Some stories were true, and some were fiction. The fictional stories centred around a man named Dave, the owner of the second-hand record store “TheVinyl Cafe”, and his family, his wife Morley and their two children Sam and Stephanie.

As the years went on, a whole universe of characters began to pop up and recur through the stories. Characters like Dave’s neighbourhood nemesis Mary Turlington, Sam’s best friend Murphy, Stephanie’s boyfriend Tommy, and Dave’s friend Kenny Wong, owner of the restaurant “Wong’s Scottish Meat Pies”. And, of course, there was Carl and Gerta Lowbeer, whose actions inadvertently set off the chain of events that unfold in “Dave Cooks the Turkey.”

The stories walked the line between uproariously funny, and deeply heartfelt. At times, hearing Stuart tell stories was like listening to a stand-up comedian at the top of his game. Other times, he could move you to tears with the emotions behind his words.

“Dave Cooks the Turkey” holds a special place in the history of The Vinyl Cafe. It was the first Christmas story and was performed at the first-ever live episode of the show in December 1996. In the years to come, the “Vinyl Cafe” Christmas tour became a staple of the season. And the pinnacle of the Christmas show was always the new Dave & Morley Christmas story.

It is an uproariously funny story, the kind of tale that makes you laugh so hard it hurts. If you haven’t heard it, I cannot recommend it strongly enough. (You can listen to it below). As the title suggests it’s the story of what happened when Dave, in an effort to take some of the holiday-related stress off his wife’s plate, agrees to cook Christmas dinner. The only problem: he doesn’t realize this also means he has to buy the turkey too. I won’t give too much away but the (mis)adventure that follows involves a midnight grocery run, an electric blanket, and a trip to a luxury hotel.

What makes “Dave Cooks the Turkey” so funny is that the backdrop to the comedy comes from a real place. The whole reason that Dave is left in charge of the turkey is that the pressure of making Christmas magical for everyone else has left Morley struggling to enjoy the holidays herself. “I used to like Christmas so much,” she explains to Dave, but the realities of making sure everyone else has a Merry Christmas has left her unable to truly have any fun herself.

It’s a relatable feeling. So many of our defining Christmas memories come from childhood when the magic of the season is its most powerful. As we grow up, we begin to realize that this magic is the result of the hard work of other people. Parents and guardians, teachers, other relatives, friends, and even total strangers, all contribute to the warm feelings Christmas inspires. And we then feel the desire to pass on that magic to others.

As well-intentioned as this instinct is, it can be overwhelming. If we’re not careful, the magic of the season can be forgotten entirely, reduced to to-do lists and forced cheer.

“Dave Cooks the Turkey” is about trying to combat this Christmas malaise. And the lengths we’ll go to for the ones we love. Every decision Dave makes, every hilarious twist and turn, is all driven by the fact that he loves Morley, and he wants her to re-capture the Christmas feelings of her youth.

Is there an element of self-preservation in his actions? Sure. He does, after all, briefly consider moving to Newfoundland and living out the rest of his days under an assumed name when it seems he may fail. But Dave’s actions, his relentlessness, make it clear that he wants to make his wife’s life a little easier. And so, even he when screws up, he moves heaven and Earth to make it right, even if that involves convincing a hotel manager to cook his turkey in their convection oven because he can’t use his own.

Ferrets For Christmas

If “Dave Cooks the Turkey” is the original (and definitive) Vinyl Cafe Christmas story, “Ferrets for Christmas” represents a different sort of origin story—specifically mine.

The Vinyl Cafe was on constantly in my house growing up, and the for first decade or so of my life I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t get it. I didn’t see what was so funny about it that my Dad would laugh so loudly. It was one of those “grown-up things” that, as a child, I assumed I just wasn’t meant to understand.

That all changed the Christmas when Dave’s son Sam brought home Ralph, the class ferret, for the Christmas break and didn’t tell his parents.

I still remember the first time I heard this story. It was a few days after Christmas and my family was on our way to visit relatives a few hours out of town. We were in the car, the radio was on, and soon The Vinyl Cafe was beginning.

I don’t know if I actually groaned when the show began, but that was the feeling I had. I was anticipating being bored for the next hour or so by that stupid show that grown-ups found funny but I didn’t get.

Boy, was I wrong.

Instead, I found myself laughing hysterically as the story unfolded. I was literally gasping for breath a couple of times I was laughing so hard. My mom at one point even had to ask from the front seat if I was ok.

I even remember the moment in the story that left me without oxygen. It was after Ralph had escaped the ferret cage and settled into the pocket of a ski jacket…which Dave absent-mindedly threw in the dryer.

Now, before you think I’m a terrible person for laughing at animal cruelty, I will let you know that Ralph not only escaped the incident uninjured but went on to have a very merry Christmas with Dave, Morley, Sam, Stephanie, and their dog, Arthur. You can listen to it below,

Like with “Dave Cooks the Turkey”, “Ferrets for Christmas” speaks to a powerful holiday-related feeling, in addition to the Ferret-related slapstick. It’s the desire to help other people at Christmas. That is, after all, the true meaning of the season.

Again, it’s Morley who vocalizes it. When Sam’s deception is revealed and the fate of Ralph’s holiday stay with the family is in doubt, Morley is the authority figure who chooses to let Ralph stay. She even asks Dave, who wants to send the ferret back to school, to make Ralph a manger in their basement.

The instinct to help others during Christmas is one that almost anyone can relate to. And one that we are all (probably) guilty of failing to live up to most years. And while Ralph “isn’t people,” as Dave so bluntly puts it, the poor creature still has nowhere to go. And so Morley and Sam, step up to keep Ralph safe through the holidays.

Even with all the hijinks that ensue.

No One’s Ever Really Gone

On November 21st, 2015, it was announced that The Vinyl Cafe Christmas tour would be cut short that year. Stuart had been diagnosed with cancer and needed to begin treatment. He died a little over a year later on February 15th, 2017.

It was the end of The Vinyl Cafe. Though there had been no new episodes since November 2015, hope had remained that Stuart would be back with more Dave and Morley stories before long. It was not to be.

But for Christmas 2017, the first Christmas without Stuart, the surviving members of the Vinyl Cafe production team had one more surprise in store. There was to be one final Christmas episode, one last Dave and Morley story.

I remember where I was when I saw there was a new Vinyl Cafe. I was in Pearson Airport, waiting in line for customs, having just returned from my trip to the US to see Star Wars: The Last Jedi with my friends and podcast co-hosts. I was already feeling melancholic, the sort of melancholy that comes with returning home from a vacation. As happy as you may be to be home, there’s a sadness that the fun had to come to an end.

It was as I was waiting there, steeped in sadness that the trip was over, when I saw that my Dad had sent me a text message while I was on the plane. He was telling me to check the old Vinyl Cafe podcast feed.

Waiting there for me was a new episode, titled “Vinyl Cafe Holiday Special”.

It was introduced by the Vinyl Cafe’s long-time producer Jess Milton, who explained to us that what we were about to hear was the final Vinyl Cafe show ever recorded. It was the last show on the abbreviated 2015 tour, recorded the day after the tour’s cancellation had been announced. Everyone involved—the crew, Stuart, the musical guests, and the live audience in Thunder Bay, Ontario—knew that, at the very least, this would be the last show for a while.

They all wanted to make it special. They succeeded.

The Dave and Morley story revolved around the time Dave offered to mail Morley’s Christmas cards for her. In his enthusiasm, Dave manages to put all the cards in the mail without stamps. He spends the rest of the story working to get the cards back out of the mailbox before the mailman picks them up. Hilarity, as they say, ensues. You can listen below,

I don’t for a second believe Stuart thought this would be the last Dave and Morley story, nor do I think he wanted it to be. And yet, he still slipped a little message to his fans into the performance just in case.

At one point, Dave, having gotten himself locked inside the mailbox with the cards, begins reflecting on the beauty that is Christmas cards. About how this season encourages people to reach out to their loved ones and tell them what they mean to each other.

“It was affecting,” Stuart says, speaking as he so often did through Dave’s innermost thoughts. “All of them, presumably, saying the same thing. The one thing that is so hard to say in person, but that everyone says at the bottom of a letter: love. Love, me. Love, you. Love, Dave. Love, Stuart.”

It wasn’t meant to be goodbye. But then we rarely get to choose what our final moments are with someone. It’s a reminder to cherish those moments we have with each other, regardless of the time of the year. And make sure to tell each other all the things we would usually save for a Christmas card.

As I stood there in line for customs, listening to this story for the first time, a line from the movie I had just travelled across the continent to see with my friends echoed in my mind.

“No one’s ever really gone.”

As if that line needed to be any more poignant.

The line is spoken by Luke Skywalker during his long-awaited reunion with Princess Leia in the movie’s final act. It’s a line with many different meanings within the film. On its surface, it’s about Leia’s son who seems to be lost to the dark side, and about Han Solo who was killed off in the previous movie. But for the audience, it held an extra weight.

The Last Jedi was the final movie Carrie Fisher shot as Leia before her death in late 2016 (just a month and a half before Stuart’s passing). When he spoke the line, it was as though Luke Skywalker were talking about Carrie and what she meant to audiences as much as anything “in-universe”. Just because Carrie was no longer with us, he seemed to be saying, doesn’t mean we still can’t feel her presence in the works she left behind. Princess Leia, and all of Carrie’s other roles and writings, are still with us, continuing to entertain and inspire new and old audiences alike.

The same is true for Stuart. Although there are no more new Dave and Morley stories or episodes of The Vinyl Cafe, Stuart’s writings still live on. In album collections, podcast re-releases, and books. His words are still with us, even if he isn’t. We can still put on headphones or crack open a book and find his insights into life, love, Canada, and his belief in the inherent goodness of people.

And Dave and his family are as alive and vibrant as ever when we listen to the old stories. For me, Dave cooks the turkey multiple times a year. Ralph the Ferret comes home for Christmas annually. And Dave has locked himself in the mailbox while retrieving his unstamped cards every year since 2017.

Whatever you’re looking for, there always seems to be the right story to revisit when the mood strikes. Be it at Christmas—like Morley’s misadventures in directing Sam’s school’s Christmas play or Stephanie’s nerves when prepping her family for dinner with her boyfriend’s parents—or at any other time of the year. Want to laugh? You can hear about Dave’s trip to the dentist or the time Sam built a waterslide in the backyard. Looking for something more thoughtful? There’s the night Dave and Tommy (Stephanie’s boyfriend) bonded over roadkill. Want a mix of both? There’s the story of Dave’s mother Margaret remarrying.

Every time I press play on one of his stories, Stuart is back. Telling stories, making me laugh and smile, just like he always did. And for those twenty minutes or so he’s not gone, not really.

So Long For Now

I always liked the way Stuart ended episodes of The Vinyl Cafe. “So long for now,” he would say. He wasn’t begging audiences to come back next week or make one final point about something. Instead, it was more familiar than that. It was the sort of thing you might say to a friend at the end of the visit. It’s a goodbye, but with a promise that it’s not final. He’ll be back again for another visit and another story.

That was part of his brilliance. He made the audience feel like friends dropping by for an hour. There was a familiarity that was built up over the years. A familiarity with Dave and Morley, to be sure, but also with Stuart. This always felt most pronounced at Christmas. The Vinyl Cafe Christmas tour and story became a tradition to be looked forward to. It made those first Christmases without him really feel as though something was missing.

It also made the Christmas Card story feel all the more special. Our friend was paying us one last visit.

I hold on tight to that final story. I only listen to it once a year. All other Vinyl Cafe stories are fair game to be listened to whenever and however many times I want. I’ll happily listen to any other Christmas story in July if that’s what I feel like. And there are more than a few stories that I’ve returned to multiple times over the years when the mood strikes. But the last story is special.

I want to hold on to that feeling of a friend unexpectedly dropping by. And while I don’t find that Stuart’s stories ever really get stale, I don’t want to risk it. Not with this one.

At the end of the final show, there’s a slight difference in Stuart’s sign-off. Instead of the usual “so long for now”, he ends with, “We’ll see you next year.” It was a promise he couldn’t keep.

So I keep it for him.

I keep it by listening to the stories, reliving the emotions, and sharing them with those I love. In that way, the “next year” that Stuart promised always comes. His words and stories continue to live on. He still shows up for twenty minutes or an hour and then leaves again with the promise of coming back: So long for now. He always does, whenever we want him to.

And what better time to drop by than Christmas?