Tradition

“Tradition” is one of my favorite songs from “Fiddler on the Roof.”   It was, for many years, one of my favorite things in life.   But parents die, children grow up and move far away, and it’s hard to work any traditions into life at all, especially during short visits from those wandering children, so I’ve given up on most.   Given up on the particular foods (too many allergies), given up on what meal must be eaten at what time;  when the tree goes up, IF the tree goes up;  and on and on.   Noel and I were chuckling just yesterday over the fact we now wear jeans to our holiday dinners.   When she was a girl, we all dressed; special holiday dresses for the girls,  a suit on whichever man I was with at the time,  something lovely for me.  In fact, that dress I showed you a photo of Christina wearing,  the long black one with the red print,  was my traditional holiday dress for years.   I love that it’s still out there attending a party or two.

Now my household is just us two, Don and me.   With a 51 year gap in our relationship, we obviously have no common traditions.   But wait,  maybe we’re on the brink here.   A month ago, as we were having a late Friday breakfast at our local cafe, Don said,  “We should do this every Friday.”   YES!   The beginning of a pattern to our lives; a tradition.   We’ve added eating pizza while we watch NASCAR Sundays afternoon.   Haha.   Not much, you may be thinking, and I have to agree;  but it’s something, something that adds a feeling of permanance, or regularity to our lives.    I like it.