Traditions

Every parent’s or women’s magazine has an article on how to build family traditions this time of year. You know. The articles that make otherwise perfectly capable and loving mothers feel that they are doing their children some grave injustice by not sitting down every year by a crackling fire, listening to Christmas carols while drinking hot cocoa and stringing enough popcorn and cranberries to circle a six feet tall Frasier fir many times over. Falling prey to the guilt, as I normally do where my children are concerned, I began to think of our own family traditions past and present.
Every Thanksgiving, we have exactly the same menu. Like most other typical Thanksgiving meals, we have turkey, dressing, gravy, cranberry sauce, ham, green beans, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, and pumpkin pie. We also serve broccoli casserole, mac and cheese, and green salad (not exactly the kind you think, I’ll explain later), and buttermilk-coconut pie. Granted, this tradition will not be gracing the slick pages of a family magazine any time soon, but still, it’s ours. As hostess of the Thanksgiving meal for the past several years, I have come to associate these dishes with certain members of my precious family. The dressing, some call it stuffing, that graces our table is the recipe that my grandmother always made. There is none quite like it. Many years ago, as her health declined she passed the torch to my mother, who has indeed mastered the recipe. Today, for the first time in ninety-nine years, there was not a place at the Thanksgiving table for Mimi; she celebrated in heaven. While the memories are perhaps too fresh and painful for us to talk about, the dressing that my mother carried to my front door made me think a few bittersweet thoughts about our absent guest and simply about mortality. When will the torch of “dressing maker” be passed to me or my older sister?
When I open the can of cranberry sauce, yes I did say can, I always think of my brother. Thanksgiving would not be complete for Jamie without cranberry sauce straight from the can, with the indentations still visible. It is by far the simplest dish that we serve. No preparation is required. It is as simple as opening the can and watching that blob of burgundy jiggle onto the plate. There were a couple of years that we just didn’t have the heart to put cranberry sauce on the table, for you see, Jamie is in heaven too. I know he was glad to see Mimi this year. I have since learned that Thanksgiving is not complete for my husband without cranberry sauce from a can, so it will continue to grace our table.
I won’t keep you in suspense any longer in regard to the green salad. It definitely is not a variety of lettuce and fresh vegetables. It could be called congealed salad or perhaps even Watergate Salad, but we like to keep things simple on our family, hence, green salad. Green salad has lime jello, cottage cheese, pineapple, nuts, cool whip and maybe a few other ingredients. This is also one of those recipes that was first my grandmothers and can now only be successfully made my mother or aunt. When my husband joined our family many years ago, this became an instant favorite of his. He requests it for most special occasions and my mother always delivers.
A few years ago, I found a recipe for butter-milk coconut pie. We first ate it at a little lunch counter that was a favorite of Mimi’s for a while. She loved the pie, we all did, and I was determined to replicate it. It was one of my finer moments when Mimi declared my pie better than the original some years ago. However, the addition of this pie to our Thanksgiving menu has more to do with my brother-in-law, Darrell. He is also a big fan of the pie, and now, each year, I make it and am always sure to make one for Darrell to take home.
I know that everyone serves most of these same foods at their Thanksgiving table, but for me, it is the memories and the love behind the recipes more than the nourishment itself. There is no written handbook on our Thanksgiving meal, only the one in our hearts. You see, any adult member of our family could, without instruction, prepare the exact meal and would do so for the exact reasons that I mentioned. I imagine that our children are beginning to catch on as well.
My daughter Mallory, who is an artist like her Dad, took the initiative several years ago, to color holiday pictures to decorate the house and table. This is fast becoming tradition among the kids in our family. I love to see the table and walls adorned with child-like versions of turkeys, Pilgrims and Indians and of course a race car or two since my baby boy Jed became involved. This year, Mallory and Hayden, her best friend and cousin, declared a tradition for themselves. This year marked the second straight year that they have watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade together. They have promised to do it every year.
In a few days, Patrick, Luke, Mallory, Jed and I will go the Christmas tree patch that is my mom’s front yard and cut this year’s perfect tree. I will drag countless boxes of ornaments and decorations out of the “cubby hole” and the Childress’s will kick off the Christmas season. I used to lament the fact that I could not have a color coordinated, show piece of a Christmas tree. Not for long though. Now, I can’t imagine a tree without our hodge-podge of ornaments that include the snowflakes that were handmade by Mimi, the glittered pine cones and Popsicle stick creations that my babies have lovingly presented to me over the years, and the Hallmark ornaments that represent each member of our family; our interests and milestones, and are added to each year.
December is always the time when the guilt kicks in high gear (Remember the popcorn and cranberries). I think it is safe to say that my tradition is to attempt to establish traditions. We will make a few batches of cookies over the next few weeks and if we’re lucky, some of them will turn out good enough to place on festive plates and wrap in tinted plastic wrap to be delivered to the kids teachers. We will play in the snow, if there is any, and make hot chocolate on the stove. If the opportunity arises, we may even go Christmas caroling. The kids will certainly participate in our churches Christmas Play. I can’t imagine that their production will be as grand as the ones of Christmases past, when Andrea, Jamie and I and our cousins were about their age, which leads me to Christmas past.
For many years, the “Dorton Grandchildren” re-enacted the Christmas story complete with wise men. I am the baby of the family, so I did not participate in all the productions. At any rate, they were grand. As there were only five grandchildren, and at least nine characters, ten if you count the actual reader of Luke 2, it was necessary for each child to play a variety of roles. Lucky for us that the costume for every character was pretty much the same, bath robe of some description and a towel draped over our heads, secured with a scarf, sash or even a belt in a pinch. With the most reverence that a group of children could muster, and I must admit we were pretty sincere, we filed on stage (usually my Aunt’s living room) the only room grand enough for such an occasion. With our hearts full of Christmas and our egos full of being the center of attention, Angie, Andrea, Chris, Jamie and I delivered the Christmas Story. The narrator solemnly read from Luke 2, Mary tenderly rocked the baby (doll) Jesus, Joseph lovingly watched over them, unless, of course,it was his turn to be a shepherd, and the wisemen/shepherds paraded in and out on queue. It was always fabulous, even if I do say so myself.
In the age of modern technology and a screen attached to every childhood pass-time, our own children have not become this creative. They could never hope to emulate the theatrical skills of their parents, but hey, we do follow Santa’s Sleigh in the sky online each Christmas Eve.
Traditions…..they are what we make them. For all those mothers who string popcorn and cranberries or even roast chestnuts by an open fire – I salute you. I think I am content to burn a few dozen cookies, hang mis-matched ornaments on a lop-sided tree, open a can of cranberry sauce at Thanksgiving and hope my family recognizes that it is all in done with profound love.