Strange Christmas Family Traditions

Throwing Up the Sash

Among our family members who celebrate Christmas, there are unique traditions, some stranger than others, that spouses have to adjust to.

            Let me begin with the tale of the brown fuzzies. I like to choose Christmas presents that are intended to be a nice surprise.  My husband Jerry does not like the fuss and bother of Christmas.  One year he did mention that he needed some socks. He always wears Gold Toe brand brown fuzzy socks, so when we visited the mall, I told him I would meet him back at his pick-up in a minute, then I slipped into Macy’s. Hurriedly, I bought socks and stuffed them inside a bag from another store so I could sneak them into our house and wrap them up as a surprise. But as soon as I got in the truck, he sniffed, and said, “Smells like brown fuzzies.”

             My son Eric has learned that his wife Alison’s family unwraps gifts in a neat, orderly fashion, and folds up the discarded wrapping paper, one gift at a time.  Not Eric! He was brought up to throw wadded up paper and boxes in a great heap in the middle of the living room! He brought that tradition into his household this Christmas, and Vake loved diving into the big mess. Vake loved it, but it might show up on his performance evaluation.  In Alison’s household, Santa always leaves a letter, reviewing the past year, for a child.

            But Eric has just reminded me of our weirdest tradition of all.  It began with my  misunderstanding words.  After all, what children aren’t puzzled by “Round John Virgin,” and the arcane language of other Christmas carols?

     When I was a toddler, Vake and Milly were reading out loud to me, reading “A Visit from St. Nicholas.”  You know the poem, “T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the house….” A pair of couplets says, “…When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.  Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash…”  When they got to that line, I asked, “Why did he throw up?”  I figured it was tonsillitis. Milly thought that was hilarious, and after that, whenever she read the poem, and got to that line, she made a loud belching sound.  So naturally, I raised Eric and Brook to the sound of belching, right on cue.  And Eric has pointed out to me that the tradition has entered its third generation—he was reading to Vake, and delivered the belch, which Vake thought was the best part of the poem.