Traditions

I’ve been thinking a lot about traditions lately. It’s that time of year when tradition is in full force—Thanksgiving through the New Year. I realized that in my husband’s family once something is done two years in a row, it becomes set in tradition. As such, we now host Thanksgiving dinner and have a small get-together with friends at our house on New Year’s Eve. It’s tradition.

Leading up to Christmas, we go to the Mayor’s Christmas Parade, see the lights on 34^th Street with Greg’s parents and his niece and nephew.  I would say that it’s tradition that we see It’s a Wonderful Life but this hasn’t happened each year because sometimes we don’t feel the need for a good cry. I also would say that each year I make latkes for Hanukkah but this isn’t always the case. But still, we have our traditions. On Christmas Eve, we go to Greg’s parents’ house for their annual Christmas Eve party. On Christmas day, we go to his grandmother’s house—she’s about to be 101 next month—and she’s been hosting Christmas day for decades.  On New Year’s Day, we go to Annapolis, to Greg’s uncle’s house.  All of this is the tradition and I’ve come to love it all. 

Then, there is a measly little day in the midst of it all, when I want to be introspective. That day is December 28^th—the anniversary of my mother’s death (she died 14 years ago). No matter how old I become, I still want my mommy and on that day, it’s not that I remember her more or honor her more than normal. I just want to make sure to take the day into account, even if I don’t say a word about it to anyone else.  The traditions that accompany this time of year, have helped me to separate the holidays from what could always be a terrible time of year for me if I were to let it.  It’s only on occasion, now, that I tear up when I hear Christmas music piping in over the sound system at the supermarket.  It used to always be the case.

Time is this corkscrew that moves forward and spirals around all at once. New things happen just as the circle of the calendar requires us to remember the past and to either celebrate it or memorialize it.  The new things this year: Greg and I got married in October after being together for over a decade (we really rushed into things); my brother and his girlfriend had a baby boy just one week ago. I think about how both of my parents would have loved these two events. 

This year’s traditions were the same but different. We were there but I was distracted.  My dear cat, Sydney, who I often describe as my soul mate (yes, I believe you can have more than one soul mate) had a pretty big health scare.  I couldn’t concentrate on all of the fun I was supposed to be having while thinking about her. After a couple of trips to the vet, lots of medication, and constant supervision, she seems to be doing well.  I may not have been fully engaged in the activities on Christmas Eve or on Christmas Day, but after all of this, I would say I’m about ready to see It’s a Wonderful Life right about now.

Free Your Creativity (from How Design)

Advice for Overcoming Unhealthy Creative Expectations

I Love a Parade...But Not Just Any Parade

The Christmas season got its unofficial start in Baltimore this past weekend with the Mayor’s Christmas Parade.  Sure, the monument lighting was a few days prior, but this parade really gets me in the mood for the holidays. Clocking in at nearly 3 hours, the parade did not disappoint—with a couple of exceptions. I missed the Latino dance troupes and the Buffalo Soldiers and I’m hoping that they’ll be back next year and that the warm temperatures will also return.  By now, if you have not experienced this parade firsthand, you are wondering why this parade is so special?  In all of my parade-watching experience, it is the one that delights the most.

As a small girl, my older cousin Emily took me to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and I remember being most enthralled with just being there.  To watch this parade on television now is beyond dull—it’s too polished, too produced. There’s just no edge to it. And, isn’t that what you want in a parade—a little edginess? The other parade of my youth was the Dairy Princess Parade held the first weekend in June each year in my hometown of Canton, NY.  The Dairy Princess Parade lacked in almost all production value.  I haven’t been in years, but the general gist of the parade was a celebration of the local dairy industry.  A big-rig Kraft truck drives up Canton’s Main Street as part of the parade.  Children are pelted with Kraft caramels. But that’s not the only attraction—there are the fire and police departments from municipalities in the area and some groups representing the U.S. military. The last year that I went, 1999—I was surprised to see the inclusion of a steel drum band (they came in from Canada) and a local chapter of PFLAG proudly walking up the street waving their rainbow flags. Of course, the parade’s star is the Dairy Princess herself along with her court.  The farmer’s daughter is elevated to celebrity if only for the day.

The Mayor’s Christmas Parade is a spin-off of the small town parade. It has the beauty pageant winners and the local firefighters and veterans’ groups. It has high school marching bands.  It even has Santa Claus as any good Christmas parade should. But this parade is backed by an enormous helping of irony, self-aware and otherwise. And, that is what makes it so special.

The first year that I encountered the parade was the best of all because it was so unexpected. In fact, we didn’t even know that there was a parade there that day—we just stumbled upon it.  It was an exceptionally warm December day so there was no need for a jacket. The parade opened up with the shrill sounds of a steam calliope as it made its way down 36^th Street (a.k.a. The Avenue). There was a Harley riding Santa, a gigantic cross riding down the street, and Boumis—lots and lots of Boumis, wearing their Shriner’s caps, or dressed as clowns, or riding magic carpets, or ATV vehicles. The most memorable float that year was the POW-MIA float which is so absent from many other Christmas parades. This float portrayed a vignette of a soldier being held prisoner in a makeshift jail while a woman in a rice paddy hat aimed a rifle at him from overhead. There was Underdog Lady. There was also the Boumi Shriner’s child burn victim float in which a real, live Shriner stood behind the wheelchair of a fake boy whose head and legs were wrapped in bandages. The parade ends with Santa in his sleigh, but not that year. That year, the scantily clad Hooters Girls brought up the rear, so to speak.

I wish that every year, the parade could be just that good. It’s a tough act to follow and even tougher if there was snow or frigid temperatures to contend with. But this year—the weather cooperated—and the major components were there. Lest one think that it’s just an opportunity to make fun of the people in the parade—whether it be the strange group of furry mascot wannabes, or the overweight tuba player who really shouldn’t wear white polyester, or the girl on the manger float who was clearly NOT amused—it doesn’t matter.  It’s how we get ourselves in the spirit of the holidays!

By the by, the biggest hits at the parade were these guys--who cleaned up after the horses. Now, that's the toughest job in show business!