The Ghosts of Christmas Traditions

On the eve of Christmas, after a lovely dinner and board game with my family, I find myself thinking about past Christmas traditions of my family. Some traditions we still continue, others have been discontinued to my dismay, while others have thankfully ended or transformed into something new. Perhaps old Dickens's Ghost will pull me out of bed half-dressed to contemplate these traditions tonight. I always have wondered: does this Ghosty give you a warning so you can wear a cute pair of pajamas or does he just catch you in your crappy, holey, four-sizes-too-big t-shirt? I think to save me from freezing tonight and to be "green" and save money on gas for the time traveling machine, I'll just take this journey through the ghosts of Christmas traditions solo tonight.

First, the Ghost of Past Christmas Traditions...

One of my favorite old traditions occurred on Christmas morning. Though I hated it at the time, this "tradition" has come to be one of my favorite memories. On Christmas morning as small children, my brother, sister, and I would awake with excitement, rushing out to be the first to open their stockings. As we tore through the socks hung above the chimney and played "not it" to see who would be the first to wake mom and dad, I could see a rosy color creep into my sister's cheeks. Was she feeling like Jolly Ole St. Nick? Perhaps. Did the growing crimson of her cheeks indicate the escalating level of her enthusiasm, like a litmus test? I never was able to find out, but we all knew that sooner or later, the tradition would come, no matter what warning signs we heeded. One Christmas, we made it all the way to the last few gifts, but my sister got the Barbie she wanted at the end and it was all over. The tradition my sister so selflessly contributed to our family memories was that of vomiting all over any presents that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, regardless of who they were for. I believe the first Christmas she didn't even get to open any presents before she projected her half-digested breakfast mixed with the overwhelming giddiness she felt during the holidays all over every present under the tree as we all looked on in disbelief. You can imagine, after that, my brother and I began a tradition of getting our presents out of the way before my sister even woke up, just to play it safe. I know at the time I wanted to kill my little sis, but now, I wouldn't replace those vomited presents for anything. It was just her way of spreading holiday cheer, so to speak. Though I'm glad this tradition slowly faded as her age increased, there are still some Christmases I wish we all felt that kind of overwhelming joy that makes you feel like smiling really big, turning red, and puking.

(This is the point where the Ghosty would nod knowingly as he whisks us away to the next destination, satisfied that I learned my lesson from this one. Desperate to grab a sugary snack to keep his energy up while Christmas time traveling, we would move from that appetizing subject to food and the Ghost of Present Christmas Traditions).

My favorite past tradition that still continues to this day is that of having doughnuts and scrambled eggs for Christmas as a family. Though the doughnuts are often stale and just don't taste as sugar-packed as they did when I was a kid, there is something about milk, donuts, and eggs on the morning of Baby Jesus's birth that really makes me say: "This is Christmas." Perhaps it is the way we all come together around the table again for a family meal or the way my parents fight over the last chocolate long john, but something about this tradition always puts the big Christmas dinner of ham, turkey, stuffing, pies, etc. to shame. Perhaps this is because of the overwhelming symbolism of doughnuts on Christmas--they look like wreaths, they make me happy, and they have a hole in the middle that is filled throughout the day with laughter, games, and making new memories with the family. This obviously isn't at the top of my brother's and sister's lists of favorite traditions continued as they remarked "Not really" when I exuberantly asked them if they were looking forward to the doughnuts tomorrow. However, I know this is also one of my parent's favorite traditions, started in the desperation of being out of town on Christmas with every restaurant except a small grocery store open, so I can rest assured that doughnuts will dance through my head every Christmas Eve for a long time to come.

(At this point, we grab a time-traveling cab as the Ghosty has viciously fought off my father for a fourth doughnut and is in no mood or shape to time travel, especially with me on his back. We tell the driver to take us to the Land of Lost and Forgotten Christmas Traditions and proceed to take a solid MSG-induced nap on the back seat of the taxi.)

As the Land of Lost and Forgotten Christmas Traditions slowly emerges from my memory of the best Christmas movie ever (Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer), I see the one tradition that we no longer continue glimmering its way through the night. As we get closer, I see the old kitty ornaments grandma made us, our favorite Hallmark ornaments from over the years that light up and move, and the inevitable candy-cane Santa hanging on the precarious branches of our decade-old artificial tree. Though I know it is a pain for my parents to haul everything up from storage, sort it all out, put it all up, and then take it all down, there is just something missing without a tree on Christmas. Most of my favorite Christmas memories revolve around the constant blinking of the multi-colored lights scattered randomly on the slightly bowing old Christmas tree in the background of whatever we were doing. We had a strand that never blinked, while the others around it seemed to be attempting to elicit seizures from those admiring the beauty of the tree. But the lights were only part of my favorite memories of our tree. My favorite part used to be helping to put on the ornaments. My mother and father dutifully save everything we have ever given them as gifts, so putting up ornaments is like looking through massive scrapbooks of all of our lives. "Your bus driver gave you that one, Karen." "You made that for me in the 3rd grade." "I got this one that year we went to Colorado." Do I miss untangling the lights? No. Do I miss arguing with my father over how to best string the lights? No. Do I miss seeing the tree sit up for weeks after Christmas because no one wants to take it down? Not really, but I do miss this "memory tree" dearly. Plus, gifts just don't look the same when they are gathered around a coffee table instead of a tree with a reindeer ornament missing an antler and a worn globe ornament with a picture of me and my siblings with my sister bawling her eyes out.

("But, there is always a positive spin to everything," the Ghosty replies, with wisdom in the black void of his eye sockets. [I think I'm mixing Dickens's Ghosty up with the Grim Reaper!] "Now, we must travel to the Ghost of Future Christmas Traditions," and we were whisked away, me still wishing I'd changed into those cute pajamas I got a few years ago.)

Though we no longer put up the tree, we have developed a new Christmas tradition and I was reminded of it tonight. Now, to include all of our new family, we make sure to have a dinner on Christmas Eve to spend some time together over games and food. We all contribute to the dinner in some way and have started to rotate which house we meet at as well. Though I miss some of the old traditions and won't be able to live without others, I am also really enjoying creating new traditions with my sister-in-law and sister's boyfriend, and the little guy soon to be born, Berwick, all a part of our new extended family.

(By the way, when you attempt to channel Charles Dickens' Ghost, you also end up channeling his verboseness! I wish I were paid by the word!)