Traditions, Food, and Comfort - Story #7 of 52

I’ve always envied others when they tell me about the traditions they remember and preserve for their families. Everything from wearing ugly sweaters every Christmas and putting out cookies and milk for Santa to carving pumpkins for Halloween or getting a new outfit for Easter are all traditions I’ve heard about from others. I have to try really hard to recall any traditions we had when I was growing up (maybe my siblings can help me?). I'm not sure if it was because we moved around a lot or if our parents didn't have traditions or if we didn't have family living near us but, regardless, it was never something I gave much thought to or worked to create when I had my own kids. I feel sort of bad about it now and wish I would have realized how important those practices are.

Once I got married, my dear mother-in-law and sister-in-law both helped me be a part of their traditions and they are some of my fondest memories.

Green vegetable salad.

Christmas Eve services at the church where we were all together and sang carols, bathed in the soft glow of a hundred candles.

Sunday dinner at my in-law’s house and the resulting afternoon naps; that feeling of total relaxation with family after a busy week.

Many traditions are tied to food and, as I was going through my drawer full of recipes lately, looking for a few things to make with my grandkids as we get ready for Christmas, I was drawn to several that had been shared with me by friends and family. I don’t bake much anymore, other than cookies or muffins for (or with) the grandchildren but, there was a time when I actually enjoyed it. I used to bake my own bread and other treats when our kids were small.

Now, it seems, no one has the time or, more likely, it’s easier to buy it from the store or from someone else who enjoys doing it. Our convenience-driven lives have taken away some of the simplest pleasures. In my case, with just two of us in the house, we don’t need a couple dozen cookies tempting us. (My willpower is non-existent when it comes to homemade treats.) When I do bake, however, it always gives me such a sense of comfort. The measuring and mixing, favorite music playing in the background, the warmth from the oven, the yummy smells all lend themselves to a sense of slowing down and being in the moment.

Seeing those hand-written recipe cards made me smile. Each one held a memory of either the person who had shared it or the occasion it signified. "Sharon’s Chocolate Chip cookies" reminded me of when our boys were little and we’d stop by Sharon’s (who also had little boys) so we moms could visit over coffee while the kids played. There would always be a fresh batch of these delicious cookies waiting and they were SO good! "Esther’s Cake" reminds me of good friends we spent a lot of time with, again when our kids were small, and the many memories we have from those times. This cake was one of the best I’d ever tasted and I just had to have the recipe. I made it often and it was always a favorite. Marion’s "Brownies and Bread" are only a couple of the many, many recipes I have from my dear mother-in-law. Man, that lady could cook and, in my attempt to both honor her and give my hubby a taste of “home” (after all, there’s nothing like mom’s cooking) I got her recipes. While they never quite tasted like hers they were well-enjoyed anyway. The "Thin Oatmeal cookies" recipe from my mom were ones she used to make at Christmas time. They were thin and lacey - very pretty actually - and delicious. Mom was renowned (by us kids) for her homemade soups like her Clam Chowder but she never used a recipe, just threw the ingredients in a big old pot and let it simmer away. Paired with a few of her baking powder biscuits that chowder is still remembered as a family favorite.

Some of my best memories are of coming home after school and walking into a warm kitchen filled with mouth-watering smells. It was one of the most comforting feelings of my life. So, as I pick out a few of these much-loved recipes to make with my grandchildren I do so with the hope that it might become a favorite memory for them. Maybe, after I’m gone and they stumble upon these stained, well-used index cards, they will smile as they remember; they will take them for themselves and they will create their own traditions that will carry on.