Tradition! Tradition! Tradition!

Tradition, tradition! Tradition!

Tradition, tradition! Tradition!

– Tevye, Fiddler on the Roof

When I was younger, I took pleasure in rebelling against tradition. If we had traditions in my house, I’d be hard pressed to name them. There was a stretch of time that my mom would make homemade cheese, sausage and onion pizza on weekends. But other than that, I can’t come up with many. And to be honest, I thought traditions were kinda silly and if you observed them and I probably scoffed at you behind your back. Sorry.

Then I got married to my starter spouse and dabbled in a few traditions. Sticking my toe in and testing the water. We had homemade cinnamon rolls on Christmas day. I’m sure there were others but I still thought traditions weren’t right for me. It turned out he wasn’t right for me. We both moved on and I wish him the merriest Christmas filled with traditions for him and his family.

Then I got together with Andrea. Tomorrow we celebrate our 10th Christmas together. And along the way, something strange happened… we have traditions together. Traditions I don’t scoff at or think are silly. We cut a live tree down every Christmas. We pop a French toast casserole into the oven on Christmas morning which fills the house with a delicious, cinnamon aroma as we open gifts. I use a few recipes each Thanksgiving and/or Christmas. Stuff like that.

This time of year is admittedly tough for many and recent losses and anniversaries of losses have made me reflective on Christmases past and those no longer able to celebrate with us. Yesterday, as I stood in the grocery store studying which creamer would be most Christmasy in our coffee, I heard something speaking to me. I suspended my search and closed in on the voice which was quipping, “…not all of my jokes are good! Some of them are real stinkers!” The voice was coming from “Joking John”, who resembled a snowman (complete with top hat) made of rolls of toilet paper, and he was wielding a plunger. John continued, "I've been telling jokes all day. I'm really pooped." (GET IT?!?! POOPED!). I snorted in the aisle. His terrible, snort worthy jokes reminded me of my dad who would have LOVED John. Had John been around in the ‘80s, I suspect he’d have been a Christmas tradition in our home much to my mother’s bemused horror.

And now? Well, of course John is a new tradition in our home! Specifically, our bathroom where he has a place of honor next to the Grinch.. Maybe you’re scoffing. That’s ok. Andrea, John and I wish you a “Merry Whizmas” to you and yours, however you celebrate (or not).