Tradition Transition - Part II

For many years our Christmas tradition remained pretty much the same. The magic of Santa faded but was replaced by our joy in being together as a family. We still congregated at my parents' and my grandmother's home to celebrate on Christmas Eve. We began going to Midnight Mass together so we could sleep in on Christmas morning. As we grew up and moved away to begin our adult lives the focus shifted naturally to our own young children as they lived out the same traditions. We enjoyed watching all the cousins gather for their special night of magic and fun in our parents' and grandmother's homes. The adults simply enjoyed being together and catching up with each other while eating our way through the traditional foods we had come to love and expect at the holiday season. It was a very crowded and very noisy affair but we loved it because we loved each other. Those who could spent the night at my parents' house, letting our children play together until they could no longer stay awake. We were glad for the chance to let them bond and make that connection that we hoped would keep them close throughout their lives, to have some of the same memories of youth.

When my oldest sister and her family moved back from Louisiana to Louisville, KY we altered our traditions. It had been getting harder and harder for everyone to juggle their schedules to gather on Christmas Eve. So she offered to have our large family gatherings the weekend before Christmas in her large home. There was plenty of room for the kids to play and a place to sleep, if we so chose, for everyone. We would begin arriving in the late afternoon for what evolved into a wonderful, if somewhat wacky, event. Everyone brought food and drink and a gift for the little ones. With tables laden with snacks and a well-stocked bar the party began as soon as each family arrived. There was room to mingle and catch up with each other and we all pitched in with the last-minute preparations. Once everyone was there we would proceed to the basement to open gifts. With sometimes as many as fifteen little ones and fifteen to twenty adults it was organized chaos. My mother kept it all moving with my grandmother's help. We were along for the wonderful ride. Just as in my youth, packages were passed out a few at a time so we could all see the gifts being opened. Little fingers tore into the paper to reveal the surprises inside. There were squeals of delight as each gift was held aloft in admiration. After the last gift was opened we would settle the kids with plates of food around the tables set up in the basement. When they finished eating they were free to play to their hearts' content. My sister's wonderful housekeeper would keep them all corralled in the basement while the adults retreated upstairs to the dining room for a fabulous sit-down dinner. That is when the real party began for us.
Our tradition had moved away from buying gifts for each adult because there were just too many of us. But that did not mean you got nothing. There was always a small gift for each of us from my grandmother, my parents, and a close family friend who always celebrated with us. We, in turn, had gifts for each of them. But we did not exchange gifts with each sibling and their spouses. For a while we exchanged a man and woman's gift from each family. Then I think it changed to just one universal gift for each couple. Eventually, a rather unusual tradition developed. It started out the year that my older brother became seriously ill with Crohn's disease and was hospitalized unexpectedly. He was in need of a bathrobe so my oldest sister brought in the one she had bought and hidden as a Christmas gift for her husband. When my brother-in-law stopped by the hospital to visit my brother and saw him in the robe he let it slip that he had a robe just like that. So my sister knew he had peeked at his gifts hidden in her closet. At our Christmas gathering my mother gave my brother-in-law a gag gift - a wrapped box with a toggle switch on the side to turn on the light attached inside and a peepsight like the ones found on hotel doors built into the top of the package. He could turn on the light and look inside the package without unwrapping it to sneak a peak at the gift inside. Of course, the gift was a bundle of switches. And so it began, our wild Christmas gag gift tradition. Whatever stupid thing you did throughout the year was liable to be used against you in the form of some crazy gift. Of course, once the gift was opened the receiver would have to tell the story behind it. We would roar with laughter at the clever gifts and the meanings behind them. It was all in good fun, never meant to be hurtful, and we were able to laugh at ourselves. No adult member of the family was exempt from this tradition. As the little ones grew up they began to look forward to the year they would be joining the adults upstairs for what seemed to them a glorious, raucous good time.

After dinner and gag gifts were over, everyone, including the kids, were free to mingle wherever they chose, playing poker, Scrabble, Pictionary, air hockey, pinball, watching movies, or just sitting and talking. We could sit up all night enjoying each other's company. Eventually the men and the kids would tire out in the wee hours of the morning. But the women would persevere. We would sit up all night laughing and chatting, playing Scrabble (or what we dubbed as Babble as we became slap-happy). For many years, the men would awake the next morning to find us still sitting around that Scrabble board. One look would set us off into fits of laughter. If a sibling was unable to make it home for the big event he/she could count on at least one phone call from all of us throughout the night. Somehow I doubt that he/she found those calls as humorous as we did. You know the saying, "You just had to be there!" But we didn't want anyone to be left out of the fun.

As our children grew into adults and began to consider marriage, the big test for the prospective spouse was to make it through family Christmas. If they stuck around after meeting all of us and being subjected to our crazy antics we determined them to be keepers. And for the most part, this has held true. Families that can laugh together and not take themselves too seriously tend to stay together and help each other through all the tough times that are inevitable. Knowing that no matter the distance, the struggles, or the angry words that naturally occur in every family, we never hold a grudge and always welcome with open arms every single member of our family. And that is the spirit of our Christmas.

Tradition Transition-Part I

Although we still have Thanksgiving to celebrate, my thoughts have already turned to Christmas. Because we are sending my oldest daughter across the pond to visit my younger daughter in London for the Christmas holidays we will be celebrating Christmas with her early when she is home for Thanksgiving. We will be killing two birds (turkeys) with one stone so to speak. So I need to clean and decorate the house, wrap the gifts, and plan the menus for her five day visit. I began to think about the Christmas traditions I grew up with and how that has translated to my children's traditions.

When I was a young child my mother would load us all into the car shortly after Thanksgiving so we could go pick out a Christmas tree. It was always exciting because it meant the beginning of this very magical holiday season. Bundled up in fuzzy hats and gloves, coats buttoned up tight to keep out the winter chill, we would traipse around the tree lot scouring out the best tree. Once the tree was selected we would hurry home to get it into the stand and then we would warm ourselves with hot chocolate. My mother would then wrap the tree with lights and tinsel, beginning the tree's transformation from ordinary to wondrous. Once this preliminary work was done she would turn us loose to finish decorating the tree, applying silvery icicles, shiny glass balls, and assorted handmade ornaments while she set out other decorations throughout the house. With Chrismas carols playing in the background it was a happy event, the kickoff for good things to come. Afterward, in the glow of the tree lights, my siblings and I would huddle over the Sears or JCPenney toy catalog, making our wish lists for Santa. We would go to bed dreaming of the toys we hoped to receive.

Over the course of the season we would rush into the living room every morning to see what packages Santa had left under the tree. Santa visited nearly every night at our house, dropping off a gift or two each time. With six children it would have been too much for him to handle all the gifts in one night. We would shake and feel those packages trying our best to guess what was inside. The excitement would build over the weeks as the pile of gifts began to spread beneath the tree.

Down the street at my Grandparents' house a transformation was also in progress. My grandmother had a smaller tree in her living room and a tiny Christmas village on display in front of the large windows. There was a white picket fence surrounding the village, tiny ice skaters on mirrored ponds, open-mouthed carolers singing in the snow, and the nativity displayed in the tiny church. Below the table upon which the village sat, assorted gifts wrapped in tissue paper and tied with ribbon were appearing day by day for us and our cousins.

Finally the big day would arrive - Christmas Eve. Our house and my grandmother's house were abuzz with activity. Scents of ham and sweet potatoes, pies and cookies filled the air as the feast was prepared. Last minute shopping and cleaning were finished and tables set. With all of us scrubbed clean and dressed we were finally ready for the evening to begin. As soon as it was dark enough we would load up into the car for a drive around town to see all the Christmas lights. Through neighborhoods we would travel, oohing and ahhing over the festive displays. Then we would arrive back home and walk down the block to our grandparents' house. We would gather for dinner along with my aunt, uncle and our three cousins. After dinner we would anxiously await the moment when we moved into the living room to open gifts. With everyone seated my grandmother would pass out the gifts one or two at a time so we could all see what everyone got and share in the excitement. After all the gifts were opened the kids would play while the adults cleaned up a bit and gathered up their belongings, preparing to move up the street to our own home. During this time my mother was suspiciously absent, on an errand for Santa I believe. Finally we would pull on our coats and run excitedly up the block.

We were greeted by our parents, my mother with the movie camera in hand as we burst through the front door. There we would find that Santa had been there and had left the "big" gifts, some wrapped and others draped with sheets. We could hardly stand the waiting for everyone to get settled so we could begin the unwrapping. Then we would rip open the packages one by one to reveal the treasures we had been dreaming of - a bicycle, a telescope, a play stove or a doll. It was a most incredible night of magic that only happens in those few years of childhood where anything is possible and dreams do come true.

We were allowed to stay up as long as we wanted, all night if we were able, to play with our newest possessions. We slept wherever we lay our head when we could no longer keep our eyes open. On Christmas morning we were awakened in time to get ready to go to church for Christmas mass, where we battled the urge to nod off. Then we would return home for a lunch of leftovers and a much needed nap. We would arise refreshed and re-energized for another day of play. That is how we spent our family Christmas.

Cyber Clutter

I was very disappointed in myself for not being able to pull off a yard sale today. My recent illness still had too much of a grip on me yesterday to allow me to go out to the storage unit and sort through box after dusty box of my past. In my office/spare bedroom I am surrounded by a roomful of items previously tagged and waiting for the sale. My clutterphobia is trying to claw its way to the surface and I keep trying to kick its neurotic ass back into submission but I am afraid I won't be able to control it for much longer. And God help my husband if that happens. I tend to get very testy and threaten to just throw everything away, then he gets very nervous and starts to stash his prized belongings, fearing I won't understand his need to have every electronic gadget known to man. And he would be right. With two computers, a desk phone, a cordless phone, a cell phone, a fax machine, and a whole array of gadgets that go with all that his home office is the poster child for Best Buy. Why exactly does one need not one, not two, but five speakers hooked up to his desktop computer? Because he can't hear the surround sound tv and stereo ready to entertain just down the hall from his office? Or the iPod sitting on the filing cabinet next to the desktop? Or the portable radio on top of the desk for listening to Bob and Tom in the mornings? Or the satellite radio catching the commercial-free music waves near the office window? Yesterday I had to crawl under his desk and trace the wires from all the speakers to the back of the computer so he could figure out why two of them weren't working. I know he suspected me as the cause simply because I was in the room and I surely must have done something because he didn't change anything and it was working the day before. (But that's another story!) Anyway, while under there I didn't solve the speaker problem but I did trace two random power plugs and an answering machine cord that were missing the components they once belonged to. They had become victims of the electronic kudzu growing under, around, and behind his desks. The mass of wires threatens to capture and choke any unwitting visitor and pull them into the tangled mess of cyber horror, never to be seen again. I feel responsible to at least attempt to hack it back occasionally lest it come creeping out into the hallway to overtake the rest of the house. I know I can't kill it but I can contain it. Goodnight Hal!

Pure Joy

Yesterday my husband and I had the most enjoyable webcam visit with our 2 1/2 year old granddaughter. As we watched and listened she read us the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. The animation in her face and voice was so precious. And when the story was finished she stood up and took a bow. Absolutely adorable. Thank you Amelia for spreading your joy across the ocean. You made our day.

Clutter Buster

Feeling much better today, and having slept away most of the past two days, I climbed out of bed at 4:30am. I am scheduled off for a three day weekend because I had planned to have a yard sale on Saturday. My goal is to eliminate enough of the extraneous clutter we have collected over the years so that I can stop paying for at least one of the two storage units that we lease. At $1200 per year for the two units, one would think we would have done this sooner. It is an emotional thing. There is a lot of junk in the storage units, but there are also a lot of memories. And it is very hard to let some of those things go. There is also quite an assortment of things that are kept out of guilt. Things passed on that we have no use for but feel quilty about getting rid of. Oh, and did I mention my husband is a pack rat? You know his kind, "We can't get rid of this, we might have a use for it in 50 years". I need to get him out of town for the day or he will be taking things off the tables and hiding them in the shed. But I will persevere for the time has come for a cleansing of the soul of sorts. One of my "thing to do before I die" wish list items previously posted was to clear all the clutter from my life and this is a big step in that direction. Not that I plan on dying soon, just that it may take me many years to accomplish. Whatever I can't sell I will either donate, post on Craig's list, or see if another family member is interested in storing. So wish me luck. I hate having yard sales, especially when people want to haggle with you over something priced at $1. C'mon people, either you want it or you don't. I would rather give the stuff to a charity than deal with the cheap misers. I held a yard sale with my in-laws several years ago and I swore I would never do it again. After the sale was over and all the leftovers had been loaded back into the house I actually had people return and knock on my door, wanting to know if I had sold a particular item. If they had to go home and mull over whether they could pay the $3 for the items in question perhaps they didn't need to be out yard-saling. Cha-ching!

Food for Thought

For the past 36 hours misery has held me hostage, confining me to bed or sofa. I awoke yesterday with a headache pounding like a jackhammer, sinuses clogged like concrete, and a need to hang my head over the toilet or a bucket to heave. With kleenexes in hand I tried to get comfortable in any position, sitting, lying, half-lying but the pounding would not leave me, nor would the ensuing chills and sweats, and the nausea and vomiting that went with it. Nary a sip of water would stay down. Last night I was desperate to be able to keep down some Advil so I tried a single cracker, hoping to put something in my stomach before the medicine. Turned out not to be a good idea, so I struggled through the night in pain, ready to poke out my eyes for relief. This morning I crawled out of bed at 5:00am so I could see if anything would stay down before I had to head to work, but my body was rejecting any form of nutrition. I hated to miss our staff meeting today but there was no way in hell I could have done the 45 minute drive to work and then spend a 12 hour day in hell. I could think of nothing else but finding a way to relieve my head. I was actually too sick to get to a doctor on my own so I mostly drifted in and out of sleep between the waves of nausea. Finally, around 2:30 today I was able to keep down some liquids, venturing a few sips at a time. Then a few bites of instant mashed potatoes. Then medicine. More rest. More sips. More potatoes. Finally I could be upright without feeling like my stomach was churning. I still have a headache but it is more of a dull thud now.

So now I am craving cinnamon toast. For most people, the thought of putting sugary, buttery bread in their bellies after being sick may not seem the wisest thing to do. But for me, cinnamon toast has always been one of those comfort foods from my childhood. I will wait a while to make sure I can stomach it but before the night is over I am sure I will have a slice. As a child, whenever I missed school due to illness or my frequent asthma attacks, my mother would fix cinnamon toast when I was well enough to eat again. I would sit in bed with the plate of toast along with the puzzles and word scrambles that she made up to entertain me quietly. She would check on me frequently, touching the back of her hand to my forhead, brushing my hair from my eyes, and listening to my breathing for signs of improvement. I know my asthma attacks frightened her at times, but she always made me feel safe and calm. While she is no longer of this world, I feel her spirit nearby. I take comfort in these past rituals of my childhood.

These thoughts made me stop to think of the other comfort foods in my life. Of course, there is Big Red, which I have previously written about. Mashed potatoes with their starchy goodness seem to help me combat nausea. I have used them to help cure motion-sickness and morning sickness, hangovers and nausea from headaches. It doesn't always work, but for the most part this is the first food I try to keep down when anything ails me. Toasted buttered cheerios are a favorite snack from my childhood as are red licorice sticks. I have a candle on a table in my living room that evokes cravings for giant cherry sweettarts from back in my Girl Scout days when I was drawn into the corner grocery as I walked to the meetings and would sometimes spend my dues on this sugary treat. Other favorites are macaroni and cheese, meatloaf, and baked corn pudding. Of course, coffee has become a favorite, especially when enhanced with a splash of Bailey's Irish Cream. What are your comfort foods and what memories do they evoke?

Elect to Act

I arose at 4:30am today so I could read a little bit more about the presidential candidates views. I left the house at 6:15am to cast my vote. Surprisingly, I only had a 20 minute wait in line. As I stood in line watching the other voters I felt a camraderie with all of them, no matter the party line they were following. As Americans, we all strive for similar things: good secure jobs, good education for our children, a sense of safety from the threats of terrorism, decent affordable healthcare that won't bankrupt us or deplete our life savings, the right to practice our religious beliefs or non-belief, the freedom to have a binding relationship with the person we love, the right to speak out without fear, a sense of pride that America is still a great nation of people who are willing to reach out to others to improve lives around the globe. We may think that we cannot do much as individuals but we all have the power within us to change the world, one small step at a time, one person at a time. So after the election is over, perhaps we could all seek out a way, be it small or large, to reach out our hands to those who need a lift up. Help a neighbor, volunteer, pray, donate, tutor, mentor, house, feed, clothe, comfort or inspire. Have a wonderful day and get out there to vote.