All in the Family Changing Christmas Traditions

The holidays conjure up memories of celebrations past – good ones, some not so positive, others we prefer to forget. This particular memory should most likely be left behind.

The phone rang one December evening. 

“Hi, can I talk to Stevie?” I recognized my brother-in-law Will’s voice and began to search the house for my husband. 

As the holidays approached the usual family Christmas Day gathering appeared uncertain. Steve’s family procrastinated. Notable for never making plans, they refused to commit until the last minute. It was infuriating at times, but expected and accepted. 

My Jewish family’s Christmas tradition dates to the 1950’s. Relatives living in the New York metropolitan area descended on my aunt and uncle’s Manhattan apartment. Steve’s Christmas Day tradition also stretches back to the mid-20^th century. His sister was born on Christmas Day. Every year his mother prepared a birthday and holiday dinner.

“Hold on.” I passed the phone to my husband. Privy to only one half of the conversation, Will turned down our Christmas Day invite. 

Sometime during the 1970s a generational transfer occurred. Our extended, multi-religious family assembled at our house, glad someone else was willing to organize the event and shop, cook, and clean for as many as two dozen people. It was chaotic and exhausting, but fun. 

Steve’s family, minus his brother’s brood, would not commit to this 21st-century occasion. On a Sunday afternoon a few days after Will’s phone call, my husband lost patience. We were at my in-laws sharing a quiet afternoon.

“So are you two coming for dinner on Christmas? We’re going food shopping this week.”

Mom suddenly looked uncomfortable, squirmed, and sighed. She looked at her husband. He walked out of the room. 

Not talking was definitely out of Mom’s character. The woman could carry on a one-sided conversation from the moment she awoke until she fell asleep at night. 

Something was not right.

Steve pushed, “What’s the problem? Just let us know one way or the other.”

Mom sighed again, looked down, and finally began to speak. She never had a problem talking. 

This was different. She was about to spill the latest family secret.  “Will and his family aren’t coming.”

“I know,” Steve impatiently stated, “I spoke to him a couple of days ago.”

“They want to spend a nice, quiet holiday with the kids,” she hesitated, took a deep breath, and continued, “They feel it’s inappropriate to share the day with non-believers.” 

So that was it. Our religion made us unfit to share Christmas dinner with Will and his family. Will refused to enter our non-Christian home on a Christian holiday. And we were unwelcome in his home. Years earlier Will’s spiritual life diverged from his birth religion, initially moving to Jews for Jesus, and then to Christian fundamentalism. 

“Will invited us for Christmas.” Mom could no longer remain silent, although sworn to secrecy. 

The family was torn between acquiescing to Will or spending the day with us.

For me, this was the last straw, a final nail in the coffin of a rocky relationship with Will that stretched back decades. On the other hand, my husband refused to be negative and attempted to placate himself – and me – with excuses for Billy’s behavior. 

Neither one of us wanted to permanently divide the family. 

Steve and I discussed the issue and came up with a solution. We adopted a new holiday tradition. We voluntarily opted out of the holiday at home. We enjoyed holiday dinners with friends. We visited my family. One year we drove to Florida. Another year we arranged a house exchange, spending two weeks out West while the California couple shared the holidays with family on the East Coast. 

Meanwhile, after Dad and Mom’s passing, Will estranged himself from his family. 

A new 21st-century tradition took hold. 

Our niece now hosts Christmas Day festivities. We attend when in town.

Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, 

close-knit family in another city.—George Burns