Holidays Observed

In a surprisingly harmonious session, four of us in the family sat down January 1st to craft New Year’s Resolutions. An idea came to me to create worksheets to help the process along: a page with questions asking what we wanted to “work on” or fix in the new year, what we would like to see others fix, what we could do better if we worked more closely as a team, and also where we needed to express more gratitude. (Hank, occupied with a project, gave me his proxy, guessing most of my answers would mirror or complement his.)

Rarely do our household interactions sport this much formality or organization. But, astonishingly, this sheet became an effective tool to open a mostly positive discussion of over an hour. In terms of process, each of us first retired to a corner, filled out the sheet, and followed its parameters such as “one thing only” or “up to three items” (my goal was to keep the whole session from becoming a rant). And then we regrouped, reading from youngest to oldest our complaints, suggestions, and confessions.

My sheet was filled with the practical: wishing the grandkids had a better attitude towards putting away laundry and longing for a cessation of the daily after-school-amnesia when neither grandchild seems to recall the need to hang up coats, take off shoes, or bring lunch boxes and water bottles to the kitchen sink to clean them. These actions alone, if observed cheerfully, would revolutionize our household (and probably some of yours!).

I also cited my foibles easily, chaffing only on the limits of two or three per category, since I could fill pages. Still, I selected the way I, alas, throw the household regularly into an uproar when I cannot find my cell phone or purse (oddly a problem I have only here, and never on the road). There’s also the maddening delays I cause when everyone is ready to go, but I somehow have to complete “just one more task” that easily could wait until we get back. There were other confessions I made, too, including my propensity to talk more than I listen when confronting said grandchildren about the truly bizarre things they do with regular objects like spatulas, tablecloths, step stools, or yardsticks.

The grandkids wrote honestly, directly, about the issues that mark, and mar, their daily lives, primarily squabbling, sibling jealousy, and the endless drama of getting into each other’s “stuff.” I’ve read enough to grasp how these interactions are a primary way children “work out the world” and thus a certain amount of it is healthy. Still, anyone with children knows how loudly the volcano explodes in these moments, and how artfully kids proclaim their innocence and victimhood. Thus, I was fully surprised to hear what the grandkids wrote on their Resolutions’ form: they totally know what they’re doing when they drive us mad.

Then came my daughter Helen’s turn. She wrote in both practical and philosophical terms, using words close to what I would have written for her, had I controlled her pencil. It seems that my words matched what she, too would have written for me. So this part of our exchange was markedly pleasant and funny.

All told, these four sheets of paper facilitated a healthy and, hopefully, helpful scrutiny of our household mechanics. Chalk one up for Grandma Carol.

And chalk one up for reviving a hallowed New Year’s Day tradition. In so many ways, New Year’s Day has gotten lost in the shuffle. Once a time of quiet with shops closed and families gathered, the only noise issued from firecrackers at midnight or football games broadcast over T.V. sets in the living room. Now, New Year’s Day feels all too much like a regular day. Lots of people have to work; mega-stores run mega-sales to reel in the crowds; grocery stores operate; and ever more small businesses and services succumb to pressure to open. Reflection and quiet conversation have been wiped off the schedule, unless a family insists on marking the day’s specialness.

But change is coming. Among people I know, many are attempting to reclaim holidays, and not just New Year’s Day. They are taking steps better to mark holidays like Veterans’ Day, Washington’s and Lincoln’s birthdays (as opposed to the anomalous, uninspiring “Presidents’ Day”). The movement to rediscover Advent and re-claim the liturgical Twelve Days of Christmas is flourishing, helping to heal some of the abuses of the commercially fractured “Christmas Season.” Another movement promotes  increased observation of liturgical festivals, from Candlemas to Lent, as well as saints’ days like St. Nicholas’ or St. Lucia’s commemorations. Regardless of what is highlighted, such individual efforts can make a marked difference in a family’s life.

It has for me.  I grew up in a solid, non-festive, bare-bones family. But holidays were special, to the best of my parents’ ability to make them so. More importantly, everywhere around me, the world did stop to acknowledge holidays of religious, cultural, and historical importance. We kids knew why businesses were closed, why flags were draped, and why the rhythm of life shifted, if but for a day.

We need that shift. I try very hard not to sound overtly a Europhile, even as I clearly study and appreciate European culture. But one thing is true: traditions in so many parts of Europe are kept well and celebrated heartily. People are capable of planning in advance how many eggs and liters of milk they will need, so that stores can close for 2 ½ days for Christmas and on major holidays. Beyond that, in most European towns and cities, shops still close early on Saturdays and stay shut on Sundays. Regularly, a sense of rest falls over towns and cities—a rest that is deeply needed by all people.

I have no illusions that we can restore that system here in the US. But I can join the many of you who make individual resolutions not to participate in the on-going spin. That may mean (as it does for me) not entering a store on so-called Black Friday, other than a grocery or pharmacy. I am not going to cyber-shop on Cyber Monday (although I do support the growing movement for Shop-Local on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, as it really does do something positive). My personal campaign definitely means not shopping on the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, New Year’s, or Easter. It also means looking deeper at the roots and meaning of our holidays. Most significantly, it means seeking to observe the Sabbath more respectfully, particularly outside of the hours when we are in church.

It is a steep hill to climb. Nothing in today’s culture will aid us in that climb. We may not reach the top. Yet, to borrow an image from the lovely words of Cheryl Swope in her revelatory book Simply Classical, there are blessings awaiting us in the view along the flanks, however high we are able to ascend. Happy New Year!