This past month or so the subject of traditions has come up in our family several times.  Personally, I’m on the fence about them. I get tired of repeating the same meal or doing the same thing on a specific holiday. But there’s comfort in them, too.  I recognize the serenity in being able to depend on something, in being in a familiar setting with familiar people. My daughter and grand-daughter have kicked it up a bit by mixing some of the old things with new ones, so while there is a steady foundation, we have a little updated fun, too. This year we had Christmas Brunch instead of a mid-afternoon dinner. It was great!

Last Friday, I touched on how maybe a movie sort of started a tradition -  a Chinese Restaurant for Christmas Dinner.  And at my parents’ house a few weeks ago, Mom told a funny story about discovering the origin of a tradition. It’s vaguely familiar,but maybe she told it to me before.

It seemed that when a mother was teaching her daughter how to bake the ham for Christmas, she cut the small end off, giving them about a 3″ chunk to use later in a pot of beans.

“Why do you do that, Mom? Why not just use leftovers?” the daughter asked.

Mom replied that it was the way her mother always did it. So they called Grandma. She said it was the way HER mother did it.  So they called Great-Grandma.

You guessed it.  That was the way HER mother did it.  Well, Great-Great Grandmother was still around…living with Great-Aunt Gladys.  So they called and asked her.

She said, “Oh, I did that because the baking pan was too short.”

I believe that’s the way most traditions were started. Christmas dinner was traditionally a ham or turkey because the company always gave them one. Aunt Gayle was the only one who liked sweet potatoes, so she always made them. Cousin Chris insisted on singing Oh Holy Night to show off, so they always sang it on Christmas Eve. Long after those people have passed, the origins are forgotten but the family still does them.

When my kids were younger we often made the gift giving/receiving into a treasure hunt. We’d wrap a small package and inside it would be a photo, map, rebus, poem, or a simple written note. Something like “I’m full of beautiful music, and I’m where you sit to MAKE beautiful music”. When they solved the clue (inside the piano bench) , there would be another clue waiting. They would have to go to several places before they found their gift.

This year, at my daughter’s house (for brunch!), my son-in-law mentioned this game. That’s when I found out she does this with her husband and kids. We have a new family tradition! I wonder if it will be carried on through the grand-children?

Do you have a new/old family tradition?

What’s this got to do with writing? Hmm.  Research!  Memoirs! Imagination! ( take your pick…)