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I get sentimentally attached to just about every significant thing in my life.
Jobs, people, places, homes, memories ...
It can take me literally years to come to terms with the transitory losses we encounter in life.
When my aunt and uncle sold their home in the late 1990s and moved a mile south to my uncle’s childhood home, it took me a “minute,” i.e., a long time, to get over it.
I was already living a life of my own in Normal, but my heart held enormously fond memories of summers, birthdays, family parties and uneventful days at their small home and the surrounding countryside.
It was a happy place – a place to exist wild and free with my cousins.
It also held many memories of my cousin Chris, who had died in 1989 at age 12. Chris and his brother spent much time there while their mom was at work.
I remember voicing my dismay at the sale, with my aunt telling me, “But you can make memories at the new house, too.”
She was right, of course. My cousins and I have many fond memories as young adults at the “new” house. And we continue going to that house every year to celebrate Independence Day, with its traditions of a family softball game, fireworks and my uncle’s late mother’s three-bean salad in the same tub she always used to make it in.
Yet, I still look back on those days at their first house with sentimental nostalgia for the way it helped form me into who I am today.
In a similar way, I still feel my heart tugged in the direction of my grandparents’ home every time I pass it, even nine years after my grandmother’s death.
Grandma’s property holds so many happy memories for me that my husband and I even had pictures taken there on our wedding day – with the current tenants’ consent.
Some of my favorite memories at Grandma’s house are from the family descent on Christmas Day.
There was always lots of noise, but it was the good kind of noise – laughter, goodhearted heckling, sarcasm and, of course, a herd of kids’ unbridled anticipation and hovering over the presents that filled the living room.
Of course, there was always lots of food, too, much of it making an annual appearance.
Uncle Dennis was in charge of carving the turkey, and he had no problem swatting away renegade hands seeking a bite of the juicy, crisp skin. Aunt Roseanne made a seven-layer salad, which I looked forward to and devoured each year.
Grandma’s crockpot sat on her counter, simmering Mona’s tortellini in chicken broth. And she always had pizzelles, a flat and round Italian pastry, on hand.
When it was no longer possible for Grandma to host Christmas, the holiday moved to the home of my aunt and uncle whom I wrote about earlier. They now host it each year, but with everyone grown and with their own families and obligations, there aren’t as many people there each year.
Our lives change, adapt and grow. There is no avoiding it.
Still, the thread of stability those holiday traditions offer is priceless in today’s world.
There has always been brokenness and upheaval in our world, but it seems the period in which we live now is unrivaled with its chaos on a global scale – and, sadly, on a personal scale, too.
Broken families and poverty affect millions of people on an ongoing basis. Many of our young people have little to no sense of stability in their lives.
Safe and happy places like my aunt’s home and familiar holiday traditions can offer grounding, a sense of warm anticipation and fond memories that will be remembered through all the ups and downs life has to offer.
This holiday season and beyond, why not start or continue your own family traditions? They don’t cost much, but the return on investment is immeasurable.
SPIRIT MATTERS is a weekly column that examines experiences common to the human spirit. Contact Jerrilyn Zavada Novak at jzblue33@yahoo.com to share how you engage your spirit in your life and community.