Blue Butter

Think of the holiday traditions that were started when you were a kid.  Most parents love to define new ideas with their own unique touches that are repeated every season.  I have one sister and no brothers, so there’s one gift we can always expect under the tree.  It’s been that way since we were kids and it just evolved into our adulthoods.  It wouldn’t be Christmas without these gifts from Mom.  Of course, little girls always get their baby dolls from Santa every year, but my mom has made it a ritual, even as little sis and I are both staring forty in the face, to make sure there’s a “baby doll” under the tree.  It’s like comfort food for our souls.   The only year that Mom ever swayed from the expected was the year I had my son.  This is the only year I got a baby boy doll, the rest have been little girl dolls with brown hair or blonde hair or even red hair - just depending on which color our own hair was at the time.  These aren’t expensive collectible dolls that can be defined as monetary investments, instead, the value of my collection is intimate and personal and treasured.  Even in the years that were things were tight in our home, Mom always made sure there were two “happies” under the tree, usually wrapped in identical paper, with my name on one and my sister’s name on the other.  And the years things weren’t so tight financially, those two matching gifts would still be there, regardless of anything else under the tree.  Money just never played into it.  I have every doll from every year and can remember every Christmas each doll symbolizes - whether it’s 1986 or 1999. 

Dad’s ritual, though, are the little brass ornaments you buy at the jewelry counters in Wal Mart or Target that can be engraved with a name or year the ornament was bought.  He didn’t begin this tradition until after my son, the first grandchild, was born.  From then on, he’s bought one ornament, and then two and finally, three ornaments each Christmas - one for each grandchild as he or she was born.   He’s particular in what he chooses and he insists on engraving these shiny tree decorations himself.  He carefully  engraves each with the name and the year for each grandbaby on his chosen ornaments.  He usually picks his ornaments based on what the year has brought for the kids.  Sometimes it’s a truck or a football or a doll.  My niece loves cats, so there’s one of a cat with her name and the year and now that she’s into horse riding, I’m sure there will be one of a horse this year.  Every year, the tree displays these ornaments along side the ornaments my sister and I made in elementary school.  There are crinkled construction paper angels with bits of glitter that hasn’t fell off over the years and bells made from pipe cleaners with pieces of yarn looped through the tops for easier hanging on the tree’s limbs. 

As more and more stories hit the news of parents arrested in meth houses with their kids crawling on the floors and stories out of Nebraska of yet another teenager being abandoned with no consequences to the parents, thanks to a poorly worded (and soon to be changed) safe haven law, these ornaments are proof of a solid and happy childhood.  They’re proof that Mom was right each time she’d say, “One day you’ll thank me” every time we told her how horrible our lives were because we had an eleven o’clock curfew or were refused permission to run away from home (yes, we actually thought we needed permission!). 

We’re gearing up for Mom’s traditional pot of seafood gumbo for Thanksgiving, complete with Daddy’s potato salad and maybe one of my red velvet cakes.  My sister usually brings the baked yams with marshmallows melted on top.  The odds of us all actually being together at the same time are pretty slim, but only because of extended families and hunting trips that are always top priority.  Eventually, though, my sister and I always cross paths at some point over the long weekend.  Our topic of conversation is always what we’re getting Mom and Dad for Christmas.  Do we go in together and get a big gift for both of them?  Is she shopping in Mobile or online this year?  Did Mom tell us how much more sugar we needed in the tea (hers is always the one pitcher that’s sweet enough)?  You know, just girl stuff between two sisters who share an incredible childhood.

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