Our contributors share their memorable, fun and slightly quirky holiday traditions with you. Add another log to the fire, heat up some cocoa and enjoy. Happy holidays to all!
Christmas letters sweet enough to eat
By Ron Schmidt
Do you like getting Christmas letters in the mail this time of year? You know, those generic letters written to send out to scores of people? I never did until I received my first two letters from Vander Veen‘s Dutch Store in Grand Rapids, Michigan, more than 40 years ago.
Mine were from the Netherlands ⸺ large, milk-chocolate letters, one “R” and one “S,” my initials. What a sweet treat to open on Christmas morning. I could’ve gotten dark chocolate letters instead, but Santa knew my favorite was milk chocolate.
For 33 years I have passed along this tradition by sending my twin daughters, Robyn and Chelsea, their own Christmas letters in their favorite dark chocolate wherever they happen to be living around the country. They love them and look forward to getting them in the mail each year to open and munch on or make into hot chocolate, or sometimes melt and dip strawberries in for a scrumptious dessert.
Now my grandson, Liam, gets his own Christmas letters to open on Christmas morning. This is a great family tradition that anyone can easily adopt. Happy holidays.
“Bah! Humbug!”
By Gordon Berg
What is it about Dickens’ timeless classic, “A Christmas Carol”? Why does it call to me every holiday? After all, it’s pretty diminutive as novels go — only around 166 pages. And given our culture’s attraction for bright, shiny, new objects, there’s a lot of dust on its original 1844 publication date.
Over the last 100-plus years there have been at least 50 movie adaptations of this story. Some are cinematic masterpieces. Others, like “The Smurfs: A Christmas Carol”, … well, time will tell.
But there is one adaptation that still resonates more with me than all the rest ⸺ a radio drama with all the spellbinding music, scary theatre-of-mind sound effects and a cast of talent led by the legendary actor, Basil Rathbone, as Ebenezer Scrooge. No one has played Mr. Scrooge with more derision and hatred for humankind than Rathbone.
For years, every Christmas, my wife and I would listen to a recording I inherited of “A Christmas Carol” on three 78 rpm records. We would turn off all the lights in the apartment (except for the Christmas tree), build a roaring fire in the fireplace and listen to this classic adaptation through an old, towering Philco radio I had rescued from the junkyard when I was in college. All the pops, hisses and scratches on those old 78s, along with the warm glow of the amplifier tubes, made the experience all the more vintage.
So why does this tale still resonate today? I believe Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” is a story of resilience. Despite what we may have done or haven’t done in our lives, we can change. Goodness is in each of us. Even the most scurrilous among us can find compassion in our hearts for others. After all, true riches can only be gained through selfless generosity.
It’s called love. Perhaps that’s the best gift this Christmas. And that is timeless.
Lucy’s gift
Story and photo by Carmelitta Tiffany
I first met Lucy Tiffany in the summer of 1978. I had become engaged to her oldest grandson, Walter, and we had taken a trip to the family farm for the big “reveal.” His family seemed kind enough, and when my future husband commented that we needed to meet his grandmother, knowing looks and half smiles were exchanged. She was in her 80s, nearly blind, barely able to walk, but she still lived alone nearby.
She was standing in her kitchen when we arrived. Walter said, “Hi, Gram. I brought someone to meet you.” She looked at him with tears in her eyes; she hadn’t seen him in more than a year. They exchanged hugs, and she then reached out to me, pulling me close so she could get a good look.
“You couldn’t have found a prettier face?” she said to him.
I was devastated. He laughed. She looked at me and winked.
I knew we would be good friends.
She sat us down at the kitchen table and took her place at the end, where piles of letters, a pen and magnifying glass sat beside her teacup and saucer.
“Walter, get us ladies some tea,” she said. “We have some business to discuss.”
She then gave me the best and most treasured gift: her permission to carry on the family tradition of making the holiday fruitcake.
Since that day, I have made more than 1,000 pounds of it. I always make sure the recipient likes fruitcake, as it’s one of those delicacies that takes getting used to, and some people never do. My 7-year-old grandson Henry helped me make this year’s batch. Someday, when he brings his fiancée to visit me, I hope to say something clever like dear Lucy did those many years ago.
The Feast of St. Nicholas: Dec. 6
By Milton F. Whitmore
For Margaret and Helen, of Arcadia
The history of St. Nicholas was the genesis of Santa Claus. When his parents passed on, Nicholas was just a young lad. He decided to devote his life to Jesus Christ. He sold what he owned, gave the money to the poor and used his inheritance to assist the needy, sick and suffering. He was of Greek descent, living in then-Asia Minor, now the region of Turkey at the eastern end of the Mediterranean Sea. His work spanned 270-343 A.D.
Much of what we “know” about this man is more legend than documented fact. Many stories survived the centuries and all involve his giving gifts, money and food to the poor. One story relates how St. Nicholas tossed bags of gold to families in need through their windows, and they would land near shoes and stockings left to dry in front of the fire.
When our children were young, St. Nicholas and his good works were celebrated in a way that spurred their imaginations. On the evening of Dec. 5, they left their shoes on the back deck of our house. Before they went to bed, they heard loud stomping on the deck and vibrant knocking on the door. This was prefaced by telling them the good man’s story, how he helped the needy and how his charity transformed into a gift-giving opportunity. Rather than rush to the door, the children’s eyes opened wide, and grins adorned their faces as they waited for permission to clamor gleefully to the door, opening it in rapt anticipation of what they would find. If there was snow on the ground, the kids saw only the tracks of the good man as he approached the door and departed. In each of their shoes, St. Nicholas left tidbits and treats, usually wrapped goodies and tasty delights outside the norm. The evening ended with sampling the treats and feeling an urge to help those in need.
Doesn’t everyone eat dessert first?
By Amy Hansen
My family loves desserts. When there’s a family gathering these days, the dessert menu receives as much weight as the dinner menu. Which desserts? How many? And who will bake them?
Growing up, we kids knew our desserts were always made from scratch and baked for special occasions ⸺ even if that meant the random Tuesday night. But when dessert time would arrive, everyone was usually too full of appetizers and dinner and would take “just a little bit” or “eat it later.”
Dessert is meant to be eaten in large mouthfuls, letting the sweet concoctions coat the mouth and awaken the senses. So, the appetizers had to go.
On a Thanksgiving Day years ago, we opted for big slices of Mom’s pies with her homemade whipped cream in the early afternoon hours, so we could fully enjoy and fully digest before the big dinner. Dessert tastes better on an empty stomach. And there was no regret of being too full later or not having traditional appetizers.
Big family gatherings are now marked with dessert first. The bakers love seeing people enjoying their treats. The kids love it because who doesn’t love dessert first? And I’ve been known to order dessert with dinner at a restaurant. Who says you can’t eat chocolate mousse and chicken piccata at the same time?
Life is too sweet not to appreciate every ounce of it. And, yes, dessert is allowed for breakfast at Mom’s house. On a special occasion.
Returning to Whoville
By Pat Stinson
One of my most enduring traditions at Christmastime is watching the Boris Karloff version of the Dr. Seuss classic, “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”. As a kid, I would wait with anticipation for the air date of this annual Christmas TV special. When the evening finally arrived, I would sit on the floor in the TV’s glow or wiggle my way into a bean bag chair and sing along with the Grinch and the Whos down in Whoville. I liked the Seuss rhymes, the Grinch’s triangular smile and the inventive whatchamacallits. I both adored and felt sorry for the Grinch’s mistreated, scruffy little dog Max.
As an adult, I bought a recording of the show and still watch it every Christmas. Of course, you can view it online these days too.
“How the Grinch Stole Christmas” is a 25-minute burst of unabashed holiday cheer with a message about materialism that resonates 55 years later. Someone asked me if the version I like best is Karloff’s or Carrey’s. Seriously? Foam masks lack the imagination of animation, even if the 1966 version was created by Rankin & Bass. (Remember the studio’s childish animated version of “Lord of the Rings”?)
A bit of trivia: Karloff narrated, but Thurl Ravenscroft sang (uncredited) the part of the Grinch. Super trivia: The original version of “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” hit the U.S. Billboard Hot 100, charting at #32 for the week ending Jan. 2, 2021. Enduring, indeed.
Togetherness: the true spice of village life
By Jennifer Devine
Angela Kemp-Deloach and her grandson Emmitt started their new tradition during the 2020 pandemic.
This year, on Dec. 1, the pair will again begin building a gingerbread kit, and when that one is finished a new kit will be started. This continues until the end of December, and when the month is over, they have their Gingerbread Village. Last time, they placed white, fuzzy felt under and around the village, as snow.
This is a great family activity that Grandma Angela says all ages enjoy. It’s fun to see how many they can get done, and the tradition will continue for as long as anyone wants to do it.
Christmas torii
Story and photo by Stewart McFerran
I put up Christmas lights on the Shinto torii in front of my house with the hope that Santa will meet a Kami there. The torii is near where I do my woodcutting, and I had a dream that on Christmas Eve, while I was cutting wood, that Santa came flying in from the North along the Platte River. He stopped, climbed down out of his sleigh and stopped at the torii, not bothering with the dusty chimney. That is where Santa met the Kami. Their conversation (Ho, Ho, Ho!) follows.
Kami: According to tradition, one side of the torii is sacred and the other profane.
Santa: I see, but you are on one side, and I am on the other.
Kami: Let’s both stand under the torii gate while we discuss this.
Santa: I will leave my sleigh parked here near Stewy’s garden.
Kami: It was kind of him to build this gate to welcome you as well as me.
I continue cutting wood and act like I don’t notice them, not wanting to interrupt.
Santa: I do get tired of those dusty chimneys. It is quite nice here under the gate near the river, and the reindeer are finding something to eat out there.
Kami: Yes, quite pleasant. I would have a hard time classifying either side as profane, but Stewy does need to clean up his yard.
Santa: I see that. Maybe I need to give him a lump of coal.
Kami: It has been a pleasure meeting you.
Santa: And you as well. Merry Christmas!
The next day, I find that I have another bag of coal for my forge. I am grateful to have it.
Merry Christmas!
