So many symbols swirl in our collective consciousness at this time of the year. Some of them are deeply rooted in experience and others have been planted in the rich fertilizer spread thickly across the culture by advertisers. Nevertheless, they are as real as any thought, and I am enamored of the cumulative effect of them. I buy into the whole image, and it does its job: it warms my heart at this time of year. I like the decorations, the music, the lights and all the rest of it.
Fires in fire places were never a part of my upbringing, except in stories, movies and commercials. Nevertheless, I picture them this time of year. I've never traveled over the river and through the woods to get to anyone's house. We're suburb people. Thanksgiving for us meant trying to park eight cars in front of Grandpa's house without pissing off the neighbors who were trying to do the same. I've never been wassailing or caroling. Around here it would just annoy people, I'm afraid. When I look back at the traditions of my own childhood holidays, I don't see a Norman Rockwell painting. I know that the pilgrims and their Native American friends didn't watch the Dallas Cowboys crush the Washington Redskins.
Nevertheless, I embrace my family, past, present and future. The transition from being a student of tradition to being a teacher of tradition is not easy. Painfully you change from the child at your grandparents' house into the adult who brings your children to their grandparents' house and finally into the grandparents who bring your elderly parents and your children and their children into your house. I don't know what shape our traditions will take, but I can already see the place they have in our children's hearts. Our own fumbling attempts to make things special often seem so lame to us, but, through some miracle, our children believe them and embrace them and attach to them more fondness and nostalgia than they seem to deserve.
Norman Rockwell probably wouldn't have painted us, had he had a chance to come to our holiday celebrations, but he would have eaten a good meal and had a good conversation or two, maybe even a few laughs.
Hello, friends. Happy Holidays to you. Tell me how you're doing.
Later. Love.
