As we reach the Christmas season, and the end of another year, many of the great writers here on Substack produce impressive pieces to delight and inspire. I’m not a great writer, but I am compelled to produce something if only to justify my outrageously high subscription price. It seems to be somewhat of a tradition.
So just what is a tradition, anyway? While we all know the meaning of the word, to me it’s something that brings joy or peace in such a way that it becomes a habit. For example, when my youngest son was 3 or 4, we had a nightly ritual of reading from a book at bedtime. Almost immediately he fixated on Maurice Sendak’s classic book Where the Wild Things Are. Every night he would ask to have me read “the king book”, in reference to Max, the hero, ruling the wild things. Even today I can recite most of the book from memory. By the time his first son was born, the book was in tatters, but I gave him a new copy to keep the tradition going.
Some traditions are born based on things we’ve heard or experienced. I started one myself, as an alternate to the birthday song we’ve all heard myriad times. In my youth the Our Gang comedy films of the 30s and 40s were migrated to television as The Little Rascals. In one of them the characters of Alfalfa, Spanky, and Buckwheat present gifts to the very perturbed father of Darla, accompanied by a song. Remembering that, though not accurately, I came up with a new song that gets repeated whenever a birthday gift is presented to a member of our family.
Today it is your birthday, So happy birthday to ya, To make your birthday come out right, We give this present to ya!
Yes, it’s silly. Many traditions are. But it never fails to spark a smile.
Traditions are common in athletics. My middle son was adamant about always wearing his lucky socks when he played a baseball game. Many sports legends have similar traits. The late John Madden traveled to all the football games that he commented on by train, never by plane. In sports there is a very fine line between tradition and superstition.
A lot of our traditions are linked to holidays. Every Halloween our oldest son would choose a new costume. They were always manufactured by us parents, never bought in a store. Usually there were lights involved, or something electronic. One year he was a computer, which was just starting to become a thing you could have in your home. The neighbors were always eager to see what we came up with each year. When the sons grew up we no longer made costumes, but when they had their own children, requests were made to Nana for various unusual costumes. One grandson experienced his first “Trick or Treat” night dressed as a golf ball, carried by his father. He was too new at walking to make the full trek.
Thanksgiving is a time of tradition for nearly all families. Turkey is the common element for most, with stuffing and cranberries secondary. For our middle son, it’s a sacred holiday. New items may be added to the menu, but there are certain things that must always be on the menu, without changes. Homemade crescent rolls must still be made, using the recipe from a cookbook bought 50 years ago. There must be apple, pumpkin, and chocolate pies. Several years ago we were unable to get the usual brand of chocolate bar for the pie, so a different brand was used. The substitution was not revealed, but he noticed and commented that the pie wasn’t quite right. Since that time, when changes are made to a dish, we also make a portion the “regular” way for our purist.
The oldest tradition comes at Christmas. It began 60 years ago. The girl, who would eventually become my wife, and I were in high school, but we were not yet dating. She and her brother bought a scarf for their mother for Christmas and presented it in a decorative box. Back then most of us had parents that had grown up during the Great Depression, and lived through World War II. Both events involved shortages and doing without, leaving a lasting impact on their lives. Christmas gifts were unwrapped carefully, with the wrapping paper often being folded and put away to be used again.
This was a nice box, so it was kept and used again the next year for a different gift. Every year “the box” reappeared with a different tag on it. As our family grew, so did the pool of possible recipients. Part of the Christmas excitement is to see who gets the box each year. It’s not quite as lovely now, as you can see in the photo above. It is older than any potential targets, other than my wife and myself. Many of those whose names appear on the box are no longer with us, but this physical Ghost of Christmas Past serves as a reminder of the love and good times we had with them.
The rules governing the box are simple. It must be cared for by the recipient until the next Christmas, when it is to be given to someone else. The layers of tags often make it hard to know who gets it, and from whom. So usually it is simply announced, or just handed to the lucky person who takes charge of it for another year.
Your family probably has its own collection of traditions, inside jokes, and pet names. On the surface they may seem pointless and silly, but I believe that having these unique shared connections bond us. As a grandfather, I take great delight in sharing them with my grandchildren. They enjoy the stories, and are tolerant when I sometimes (well, often) repeat them. I’m looking forward to presenting the box to a grandson this year, in yet another great family Christmas. May yours be wonderful as well.