Christmas was different this year. I've been mourning the loss of tradition in my family. Growing up, Christmas seemed to last the whole month of December; the anticipation was built first with the decorating of the house, the choosing of the tree, the bible readings at dinner, and the constant checking of CKNW to see if school would be cancelled by the 1cm of wet snow. I had a weird habit of re-arranging the presents under the tree, not to try and guess what I would be getting, but just to enjoy the prettiness of it all. Ali and I would practice Christmas songs on the piano in time for the Beimer get-together, which never really mattered though because all tonal clarity is completely dropped in the midst of loud voices and Aunt Sophie's yelling out the following lyrics for those in the back. I'm not sure if general loudness counts for tradition, but I know Christmas wouldn't be the same without the noise our family seems to generate.
A big tradition that seemed to have been dropped was Olliebollen. Maybe it was lost in the health-kick of our generation....a big deep-fried oily ball of raisins and dough dipped in icing sugar is losing its place in our world. Time to bring it back. I remember skipping the whole day of school to stay home and try help my mom make the olliebollen for the school's Bazaar. I don't think mom actually needed my help, I think it was more that in the chaos of preparations she didn't realize I was still at home until it was too late. The night before she would mix up the dough with help from her friends and a bottle of wine. I would stay up listening to their conversations while they cut the apples and mixed the dough, rolling up their sleeves and bending over the big white bins to pound it all together. And then, waking up early the next morning to add the yeast and delicately cover those same bins with old dutch tablecloths, wrapping blankets around to keep the mixture warm. Random old ladies from the church that I was told to call 'Tante so-and-so' came over to help deep-fry, taste-test, and package up all the olliebollen. I spent the day running back and forth between the house and the garage, the cold air mixing with the warm scents of yeast and oil and coffee. For me, this marked the beginning of the Christmas season.
Some of these traditions do continue, and some are lost with the transition of our family not living together anymore. Our Oma was genuinely excited that we wanted to re-learn the art of making olliebollen this year; she said it was important for us to carry on the tradition because she wouldn't always be here. And her olliebollen is the best. It's important to recognize these things that are unique to our family, and keep the tradition alive despite the passing on of generations.
Looking back, I realize the things that made the holiday season special for me was the community I was a part of. I had a role, whether it was playing piano or making food or reading a verse. I haven't been home for the month of December, and so I've missed those opportunities. This year I struggled feeling like it was Christmas because of that. Maybe thats okay. There are better things to come, and new traditions to include, and old ones to revive. I still have a role in these traditions; I now have to take responsibility for them, to maintain them. And that's exciting too.
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Great post, Jo. I remember being on the verge of being done at Dordt and knowing I was moving away to Montana, and suddenly all those things I thought were little things became really big things, and I think they still are now. And I agree: tonal clarity be damned,I want singing and I don't want song sheets--it isn't the same unless Auntie Sophie is yelling the lyrics at the top of her lungs.
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