The Ghost of Christmas Past

There is a story that defines tradition. A newly married woman wanted to cook the ham for the traditional family holiday meal. She took the ham and divided it into two chunks of meat, placed it in two pans and put them in the oven. Later her husband asked her why she cut the ham into two parts and she responded, “That’s what Granny did.” When her guest arrived for dinner, she asked her grandmother why she cut the ham before placing it in the oven. Granny replied, “The oven wasn’t big enough for the whole ham.” It became a family tradition. During the Christmas countdown, we are treated to Hallmark movies with traditional plots: bake cookies, ice skate, make a snow angel, have a snow ball fight and cut down a Christmas tree. They have set the standard for holiday traditions. The only one of these activities I have done is cut down a Christmas tree in the woods. It was too much work. But our family traditions are abundant although somewhat fleeting.

On Christmas Eve we always had gumbo and gathered to open gifts, then Santa came with more gifts for Christmas morning.  These traditions continue in my family with a change only in the place of the gathering. My dad’s family always had a family Christmas Party at the either the Lion’s Club, Meadowbrook Golf Club or the United Rubber Workers Union Hall. The adults would draw names for gifts for each child. Regretfully that tradition ended with the passing of the older generation. It was traditional that my grandmother – Mama’s mother – come from Moss Point, Mississippi on the Greyhound bus to spend Christmas with us and we would pick her up at the bus station downtown. She always sat up front right behind the bus driver, probably telling him how to drive. Those Christmases are gone too with only the memories remaining. But my sisters and I blended and tweaked the best memories into new traditions as our family changed with joyful additions and sorrowful losses.

I still make gumbo on Christmas Eve and the family still gathers at my house for food and gifts. Through the years my husband, son, and I have added our own list of must dos and must haves, which we endearingly call our “always dos.” After the family leaves, we watch a “Scrooge” movie and then attend Midnight Mass. Christmas morning is filled with breakfast casseroles, Santa and gifts. I always wear the same Christmas sweater – bought from QVC by Mama in 1993 – as we do the same things and we know that if you don’t believe in Santa Claus you get underwear for Christmas. With the new and the old, the reoccurring part of all of our Christmases is a real tree. It began the first year we were married because we both thought the silver colored aluminum tree with the rotating light was hideous.

We bought a cedar tree in 1967 at P & P Produce in Rosedale, the first year the Pruitt family opened the business. Over the years we went to P & P during the holiday season for a tree, fresh fruit, nuts and sugar candy canes. The trees – cedar, Scotch pine or Frazer – were always beautiful and fruit was never eaten – we just bought it for the smell. Yesterday I bought a Frazier Fir at P & P Produce, which relocated in Northport after the 2011 tornado destroyed the property in Rosedale.  It certainly felt traditional and I looked at the fruit but did not buy, choosing 2 poinsettias instead, not to be eaten since they are poisonous.

Although we strayed from P & P occasionally, I could definitely say that 45 of our family trees have come from there.  One year we went to a Christmas tree farm, picked out a tree, cut it down and took it home. As it sat in the house, the heat caused bug larvae to hatch and our house was infested with flying visitors. During the 70s, several years the Jaycees sold trees as a fundraiser for their Christmas Shopping Project with the proceeds funding coats and shoes for underprivileged children. One year we bought a tree at a stand on 15^thStreet but the tree had to be replaced two days before Christmas; it was dead as a coffin nail. The tree became so brittle and dry it took on the Charlie Brown tree appearance with fallen needles. I was afraid to turn the lights on believing it would go up in flames. We took the tree down, put it on the street for trash collection, went to the YMCA and bought the last tree available in Tuscaloosa. When we got home with the new tree our old dead tree was gone. I hope the family with that dead tree enjoyed the holidays. These episodes did not become traditional and were never repeated.

Although I know our traditions are not laws that we must adhere to, I am skeptical of the consequences of breaking them. Our traditions define who we are because they are woven into the tapestry of life. The Ghost of Christmas Past lives on in our hearts. I may continue to perform certain rituals because I have always done it that way, but that doesn’t make new ways better or worse, just different. Our time with family may be spent recalling the old ways, improving on them, or modifying them when we are not prepared to break the tradition. As Mark Twain wrote, “The less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it.” Our oven is big enough for all our traditions. God bless us, everyone.