Why did I promise to bake cranberry pecan scones? The scones were a long-ago family holiday tradition that had faded into history. Now I have resurrected—even suggested— them, telling my daughter I’d bring a batch for our Christmas celebration. Was that a good idea? Do I want to spend this beautiful sunny morning baking?
I decide, yes. It’s worth it.
I like family traditions, especially during the Christmas season. They give a sense of continuity and belonging and mostly, they are a good thing. Many fond memories return every year as I plug in the small ceramic Christmas tree given to me by my mother-inlaw. The lovely glass tree ornaments, made in the 1940s and ’50s, inherited from my mother renew my appreciation for the beauty of a bygone era.
I am proud of the traditions I started. My nativity scene collection for one. Something about the love of a mother and father for a newborn tugs at the strings of my heart every time I set up my favorite crèche.
Serving chili as my Christmas Eve dinner is another tradition of which I’m proud. My mother’s family lived in Mexico for several years before entering the United States and brought the tradition with her. Now it’s my pleasure to continue making and serving this spicy rich dish every Christmas Eve.
Some wonderful traditions sadly disappeared in the shuffle of time: the Christmas trees with over-decorated lower branches because my little children could reach no higher to hang their favorite ornament, the trips to see Santa, sometimes with a less than enthusiastic child. Sunday School Christmas pageants are another, although whether or not my children enjoyed them is another matter.
I miss the boxes of tiny peppernuts (an anise-molasses flavored cookie) made and sent by my two favorite aunts. The aunts have long passed on, but the memory of these delectable items has remained.
Other traditions are best left behind. My father’s toppling Christmas trees, for one. Somehow poor Dad had trouble with trees falling, and as a snide teenager, I referred to these unfortunate happening as a “family tradition.” Obviously, he didn’t intend for this to be such. Fortunately, he perfected his engineering technique, and the trees quit falling.
Plum pudding has fallen by the wayside; just a little too sweet and too heavy for modern taste.
And I’m very happy to leave tinsel in the dustpan of history. While creating a beautiful effect, those silvery strands were incredibly difficult to remove. Back in the day, nobody was wasteful enough to throw them out with the old tree, but dutifully plucked them from the branches and saved them for another year.
It’s heartwarming to watch my grown children create their own traditions, and I don’t mind the ego boost when they choose to continue some of mine. However, I am very happy the Elf on the Shelf wasn’t popular back in my day. Elfie must be moved nightly to a different location. Santa caused enough work, and he only visited one night.
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