Observations of a holiday traditionalist
Observations of a holiday traditionalist
By: Dana Martin
Topics: holidays, New Year's Eve, Family, Neighborhoods, Christmas
Posted by sunnica Fri Jan 4, 2008 11:32:20 PST
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Last month, I dedicated an article to bemoaning the short stack of Christmas cards we received this year. The problem seemed contagious, I noticed, when after reading it, people began climbing from the rubble of December like survivors, telling me similar stories about how they made it through the holidays with their Christmas tank on empty. With the holidays now behind me and 2008 in full swing, my wound is finally beginning to heal. As an addendum to that article, though, I should note that I did receive four cards after December 25th.
I wasn't the only person who noticed a change in the holiday atmosphere this year. Herb Benham noticed. He referred to absent Christmas lights in one of his columns in The Bakersfield Californian. The houses I sought in Westchester and in Haggin Oaks weren't decorated in 2007. In theater terms, we'd call this "dark" to refer to a night without a performance. This Christmas, it was dark downtown, Haggin Oaks was mostly dark, my Christmas cards were certainly "dark," and then, New Year's Eve became dark, too.
I am a disgruntled traditionalist.
The only thing that wasn't dark this year seemed to be Halloween, thanks to the extension of Daylight Savings Time. Whose idea was this? Children don't like trick-or-treating in broad daylight, thus began the first decline in tradition this holiday season. We had fewer trick-or-treaters this year by half, which is an unfortunate contrast to the fact that I purchased more candy than ever.
It could be that I'm getting older and I refuse to see that my neighborhood is growing up around me. What used to be a cul-de-sac merry with Santa Claus, lights, homemade cookies, new bicycles and remote control cars on Christmas morning, is now home to gas powered cars, some fairly old parents, and the strangers who moved in to replace the families who moved away.
Abby and her brother, Joel, moved out years ago, leaving only Rachel at the Burt's house. I used to feed Rachel lunch at my breakfast bar when she was 3. She is now in college. The Kranks (I mean the Burts) packed up and went on vacation this holiday. Their house was dark.
Four retired or childless couples take up space in the cul-de-sac, none of whom decided to come outside and celebrate the coming of the New Year in the manner we have celebrated it for 15 years.
As is our tradition, at the stoke of midnight we run outside in our pajamas and greet each other in the street with poppers, streamers, horns, or kitchenware. It's what we do. Where were my neighbors?
Shawn and Tracy moved to Texas, taking with them their young children who would have been outside with us banging pots and pans. James and Carrie replaced them next door, bringing three beautiful babies and the promise of new life to the aging cul-de-sac. It was like starting over; we would get to see children from scratch again with their wide-eyed wonder during holidays, introduce them to the Bold Venture Court traditions. I had it all planned.
I should have sent a memo. That family spent New Year's Eve away from home.
My two older children had plans with friends. When I started making the traditional evening agenda, complete with finger foods and Monopoly, my son gently tiptoed around my fragile holiday sensibilities and reminded me that he is now 18 years old; he would be going to a party with kids his age. Where had the years gone? Was it so long ago that my three children looked forward to sparkling cider in plastic champagne glasses on New Year's Eve?
With the older teens gone, it was just my husband, our 13-year old daughter and I charging out of doors at the stroke of midnight with all the excitement and revelry of years past. Armed with noise makers sure to wake the dead and jubilance in abundance, we tooted and we clamored and we screamed... by ourselves.
The noise may have awakened the dead, but it did nothing to rouse our sleepy neighborhood. The cul-de-sac was dark, at least on our half. The opposite end seemed to be alive and celebrating. We contemplated moving.
We won't move. Who would, after all, organize the 4th of July cookout? There's always next year.
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