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The holiday race is on and the finish line is in sight. Chanukah is first up and in no time at all Christmas will be coming down the chimney. Being one of those households that swings both ways we have to remember twice as many dates as most. Yup, when the sun goes down, first we light the menorah, and then we flip the switch on the Christmas lights.
Things have changed a lot over the years, as I am sure they have for many of you. The older I get the more one factor in the universe becomes clear and that is that the only thing that remains the same is change. As much as I would like to fight it and did throughout my youth, you just can’t stop it.
For me, the holidays have always been the hardest when it comes to change. I like knowing what is going on ahead of time. After I married my wife, Stacey, and Chanukah was introduced into my life, I knew exactly what to expect. Well, with the exception of the date that is, which changes every year, usually in the second half of December.
It was a lot like Christmas, but without as many decorations and with different food. We would always go to my in-laws, Arnold and Marsha’s house. First we would open presents, where Marsha would have the opportunity to spoil and dote over her children and more importantly her grandchildren.
After present opening, I could always count on a meal that included one of my favorites, latkes also known as potato pancakes for those of you unfamiliar with Jewish cuisine. Combine those tasty little tidbits with beef brisket, matzo ball soup, and noodle kugel, and you would be stuffed for the rest of the day.
Sadly, when Marsha, or as the grandkids called her “Bubbie”, passed away almost five years ago, the Chanukah as we knew it passed with her. She was the matriarch and the soul behind the celebration. Since we celebrate Christmas every year we just went with the change and now we make our special nod to Bubbie by lighting the menorah every year. It also reminds the kids of an important part of their heritage.
While that change was hard on my wife and kids, I was laboring under the misguided assumption that Christmas at my parents’ house would never change. During my life it was always the one constant that I could depend on. I knew that no matter what may change in my life, that come December 25th, I knew where I was going to be on that morning. With the exception of one year in my life I knew that this was a constant.
I knew that I would begin the morning with one of my dad’s trademark Tom & Jerry’s, followed by the opening of presents to the background soundtrack of Christmas carols. There would be my sister Sue regulating the opening of presents in her attempts to make the morning last as long as possible, never wanting Christmas to end.
But of course the presents would have to run out and when they did came my favorite part of the morning, well my favorite part since becoming an adult, breakfast. My mom’s table settings were always legendary and Christmas was always the pinnacle.
We would feast on eggs, sautéed chicken livers, fruit, and homemade breads. No matter how much I tried to control myself I always ate too much. Combine all that food with a few Tom & Jerry’s which, by the way, have a shot of some secret liquor mixed in them, and my afternoon plans were pre-determined. Read an extended nap.
Then the other shoe dropped when my parents decided to sell their house and divide their time between the High Sierras and Baja Mexico, becoming nomads with homes. So with sadness in my heart I resigned myself to the fact that those days were gone along with Bubbie’s latkes.
Last year we began anew, it was just my immediate family, as my parents began their new Christmas traditions in Mexico. We didn’t really have any time to adopt any new traditions, but we had one another and that was good enough for us. Although I have to admit I missed the chicken livers and Tom & Jerry’s.
But this year the nomads have returned to the San Gabriel Valley and are staying through Christmas. So this year will be the shades of the old traditions, as they and my Aunt Barbara will be joining us for Christmas morning. While it won’t have the same feel as the days at my parents’ house on Loma Avenue, we will all be together and that is what really counts.
Even though the venue has changed, the other thing I have figured out with age is this, nothing else matters but family.
Especially your immediate family. You never know what tomorrow will bring so you have to make sure that when the time comes for things to change you don’t have any regrets. Sure, you will always have some, but if you take the time now to let the people in your life know how much they mean to you, you won’t be beating yourself up when they are gone.
My family was never that big to begin with having a mother that was an only child and a father that has only one sister who never had any children. Now that the family has dwindled down in numbers, either by death or geography, you want to cling to the ones that you can, and spend time with them when the occasion arises.
Fortunately, this holiday season that occasion is here once again and I am looking forward to it. Who knows what next year will bring, but I will deal with that when it comes.
This year I will be thanking Santa for bringing me some Tom & Jerry’s.
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