A Pistol and A Butcher Knife

Christmas and New Years always make me think of traditions…

I love the idea of tradition. It’s a little something we can look back on and forward to.

The Webster’s dictionary says this:
Main Entry: tra·di·tion
Pronunciation: tr&-'di-sh&n
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English tradicioun, from Middle French & Latin; Middle French tradition, from Latin tradition-, traditio action of handing over, tradition -- more at TREASON
1 : an inherited, established, or customary pattern of thought, action, or behavior (as a religious practice or a social custom)
2 : the handing down of information, beliefs, and customs by word of mouth or by example from one generation to another without written instruction
3 : cultural continuity in social attitudes, customs, and institutions
4 : characteristic manner, method, or style

As our lives change our traditions evolve and can sometimes become something different all together. Over the years I’ve tried to create traditions, but that’s more difficult that it seems. First, it usually involves more than one person and quite frankly the maintenance is a lot of work! Establishing a pattern takes time. My mother gives us Christmas tree ornaments every year and I have ornaments dating back farther than I can remember. This year she said, “I don’t think I’ll give out ornaments.” I was appalled. I mean its tradition! But in all honestly I hadn’t thought of it as such until that moment.

I often shake my head at the traditions that cause us stress over the holidays. I think we let go a little and see what happens, instead of insisting on its completion with such force that it takes away from what it is suppose to represent. Maybe that’s what Mom was trying to do… sorry Mom! My husband and I do things a little differently around the holidays. We pick a night a few nights before Christmas to exchange our presents and to spend time with one another. I enjoy that time we make together and although it seems naughty to celebrate Christmas so early, it takes away the stress of packing the truck full of presents to turn around and bring them home again. It helps us to enjoy the holidays!

I love holiday traditions, but some of my most important aren’t wrapped up in holiday cheer. When I was little (and I must have been very little for my father’s parents had passed by the time I was 7) we spent almost every Sunday or it seemed every Sunday down in Moosehead for lunch. My grandparents were smokers. I don’t remember the house being filled with smoke, although it must have been. It didn’t matter how cold it was outside, or warm for that matter, when you entered Nan’s kitchen the heat hit you with full force. It wasn’t just the wood stove; she had some kind of energy that held that place together. As soon as our coats were off and hung behind the door, we were off on our own little adventures. You might even consider mine a job. In the drawer next to the sink was an old toothbrush. My grandmother would mix up a bowl of baking soda and vinegar and I would use the toothbrush to clean all the smoke stains off a small ceramic Christmas house. The house was red with a snow roof, had a banner that read “The Rudolph’s”, a snowman on one side and a tree on the other. It spent most of the year on the top shelve of a built in cabinet in the far TV room. Once I finished, I was given the opportunity to plug the house in, every window and tree decoration shined from the little light inside. After my Nan passed, that little house was given to me. I’m not sure if the family knew what it meant for me to have it… but to this day its something I treasure and because of it have deep seeded memories of my grandparents.

Jay, my husband’s brother must have had a similar experience with his Aunt. For every time he visited, she would give him two very special ‘toys’ to play with, a pistol and a butcher knife. Jay would take off into the ever-changing landscape of his Aunt’s yard to make believe with two very real toys. When an older Jay visiting his Aunt happened to mention the pistol and the butcher knife, his Aunt was heartbroken to have to tell him that during a break-in both the pistol and the butcher knife were stolen. Both Jay and his Aunt grieved over the loss, most likely recognizing the bond it gave them. It wasn't too long after that visit that both Jay and his Aunt would pass away. I’ve never met these two people, but I love this story so much I insist on hearing it over and over. To me, it reeks of tradition.

It is my wish for 2006 that we’ll all be mindful of the traditions in our midst.