Traditions and Memories

Dwayne, Denise, Ellen, Judy

(My cousins and I at Christmas)

I think this time of year more than any other time we think about traditions.

The website; Dictorary.com tells us that Tradition is a noun and

  • it’s the handing down of statements, beliefs, legends, customs, information, etc., from generation to generation, especially by word of mouth or by practice: a story that has come down to us by popular tradition.
  • something that is handed down: the traditions of the Eskimos.
  • long-established or inherited way of thinking or acting: The rebellious students wanted to break with tradition.
  • a continuing pattern of culture beliefs or practices.
  • a customary or characteristic method or manner: The winner took a victory lap in the usual track tradition.

Growing up my mom would talk about her mom’s tradition,  that there would be no sign of Christmas anywhere in their house, and then they would get up on Christmas Day and the house would have been transformed as if Christmas had exploded overnight. Mom would also tell us about her brother’s special sandwich on Christmas Eve; made of bologna, cheddar cheese, dill pickle and ketchup. Another food tradition I remember was on Christmas day. Later in the evening after we’d eaten the big Christmas meal my maternal grandmother; Mary would take ever bit of meat off the Christmas turkey and chop it up into small pieces and then add leftover peas from the dinner and a bit of dressing to make turkey salad. With buns and anything else left from dinner it would become a late evening snack.

On my dad’s side;  my grandparents lived on a farm with farm animals so they couldn’t come to the city for Christmas as the animals would need tending.  My grandparents home was rustic, and I recall sleeping in the living room where the pot belly stove was and it being pitch black, and all you could see was the glow around the door on the stove and being cozy and cuddled under homemade quilts.

My dad told me that his father played the coronet in a Salvation band and sometimes on Christmas day he would go outside and play, hoping the neighbors would hear his music.

Years later when my paternal grandparents no longer had animals, they would come to town, and my grandpa and I would watch “A Christmas Carol” with Alister Sims. There were very few channels, and television was quite new, so sometimes I watched that show two or three times. It still is one of my favorites. Every Christmas Eve my grandpa would go to church service; not to any particular denominations, he wanted to check out a new one each year. On Christmas morning that same grandpa wouldn’t let us open anything; not even our stockings, until breakfast, had been served and all the dishes had been washed up. This was torture for us.

Today as I was doing my cleaning I realized that I was preparing for another tradition. This tradition I got from my ex-husband’s family. This one wasn’t a Christmas tradition but a New Year’s tradition. The tradition was that you had to start the New Year off with a clean house, money in your wallet and food (usually wheat) in the corners of the room. As I recall, the idea was that how you went into the New Year was how your year would be.  So the idea was that you would be prosperous all year and have a tidy house. I don’t like to take chances, so I still do this even though I haven’t been in that family for many years.

Since I met my husband almost 9 years ago, we have continued my tradition of spending Christmas Eve with my side of the family.  Right from the beginning my  husband’s children came out to the lake and joined in . My mom always had all of my dad’s side of the family over on Christmas Eve and that tradition continues today even though my mom is no longer with us.  She would always cook a huge meal and my dad would joke that we could flag people off the road and have at least 20 more guests.  I have fond memories of a warm glowing house with all the cousins, uncles, and aunts in groups around the house; talk and laughing.

For me, these traditions and memories feel like a warm fuzzy blanket that take me back in time. I’d love to hear about your traditions.

Merry Christmas everyone.

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