While some might ask their co-workers what they’re doing for the holidays as a formality, I truly love hearing about everyone’s unique holiday traditions. Some curl up by the fire and watch cringe-worthy Hallmark movies, others decorate a tree or bush and many light kinaras. Someone I went to middle school with ritually ordered family-sized buckets of fried chicken from KFC every year on the 25th!
My family is what I like to call Jew-ish — and by that I mean I am fully Jewish on both sides, but we haven’t been to synagogue a day in our lives. We do enjoy lighting a menorah for at least a few nights of Hanukkah (when we remember to do it), and obviously we gorge ourselves on latkes at least a few times during the annual eight-day holiday. When I was a kid, I was also showered with gifts for those eight days (ah, the benefits of being an only child). But now I’m 30 and this is a distant memory of years’ past.
But some of my favorite holiday traditions, which I can safely say are specific to my family (and are ongoing!) are watching “The Shining” on every first snowfall and getting a Winter Solstice tree. The annual “Shining” viewing is self-explanatory, and if you don’t understand, go watch the movie and then we’ll talk. I was inducted into the tradition at a somewhat young age, and experienced relentless nightmares about old women emerging from my bathtub. Needless to say, it was a formative experience for me.
Another integral part of the holidays was our annual tree hunting tailgate at our local New England tree farm (yes, very quaint). A large group of my family, their friends and their friend’s kids would meet up at the local park-and-ride and cram into each other’s cars to carpool to the lot. We’d hop on a massive hayride decked out in Buffalo plaid blankets, and from there — in total “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” fashion — we’d trek to find the perfect evergreen. After stumbling upon the *thicccest* conifer of the bunch, my dad would break out the ax to chop it down. We’d strap it to the top of our SUV, and all of the families who came together would tailgate in the parking lot. We’d feast on a potluck of soups, sandwiches and casseroles that each family spent the morning making. Sometimes there were candy cane hunts among the trees, and of course, sometimes highly contentious games of sardines.
When all of the kids started entering high school — and eventually college — the number of attending families dwindled. Eventually, it was only my family and my best friend’s family. When we both went to college, our parents started buying each of our respective trees at Costco, but decorating my parent’s tree still remains an annual spectacle. My mom breaks out her hundreds of ornaments that are stored in the attic, we watch holiday movies (or “The Shining” if it snows) and play Hanukkah music (yes — Hanukkah songs exist — Alexa! Play “Lalalalala Latke!”). We spend an entire day erecting the tree, wrapping it in garlands and hanging all of the silly plastic ornaments we picked up on family vacations, every Hanukkah ornament that exists, ugly things I made in my youth as a below-average artist and “Three Stooges” tchotchke. It’s a sight to see, and it truly instills a sense of holiday cheer when we aren’t necessarily celebrating in a conventional way during the holiday season.
In grade school, my classmates didn’t understand my family’s approach to the holiday season. At times, I was a little embarrassed that my holiday celebrations didn’t look like that of my other friends — Jewish or not. Our tree was callously called a Christmas tree and sometimes even Hanukkah bush (BOTH WRONG — it’s a Winter Solstice tree!). Meanwhile, none of the other kids in my class were watching Jack Torrence scream “here’s Johnny” during the “most wonderful time of the year.” Weird, right?
But the truth is, I was not-so-secretly proud to have these traditions in my life. While our holiday traditions were unique and unlike my classmates’ traditions, they were a major part of my identity. As a Jewish person who had constantly been told I wasn’t “Jewish” enough because I didn’t attend synagogue or Hebrew school, I’ve now accepted — and celebrate! — the specific holiday traditions my family took part in. They’re just as much a part of my Jewish identity as anything else in my life.
Years later, my fiancé and I make sure to get a winter solstice tree annually for our old, cozy farmhouse in the Hudson Valley. When it snows, we put on “The Shining” (I still scream every time Scatman gets axed) and obviously, we fry up a batch of latkes which we eat alongside our two sleepy dogs in front of the wood-burning stove. We even light our own menorah (again, when we remember to do so!).
These family traditions are delicious, weird and entirely part of my Jewish identity — and I plan to continue them for many years to come.
