My Brunette Life as a Redhead: Christmas Traditions Old and New

By: Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

Me at Grandma's

Sometimes sixty people crammed into a too small house tucked into the woods of Northeast Ohio. Among the laughter, food smells, and cigarette smoke wafting from the windows that were cracked opened because of the stifling heat, cries of “model-it” could be heard as the family inside chanted in unison.

Within the walls of that modest home huddled a family sharing in traditions that evolved over the years. Not everyone could be there, but everyone who was close by made the journey into the woods, even if the snow and wind and cold made the trek a perilous one. The meal and the love at the end of the slow, slippery drive made it worth every skid and slide of the car.

Snow in Chardon, OH at Christmas

Like most families, ours had unique traditions that were a predictable part of every Christmas gathering. After stuffing ourselves on the amazing spread of food, we would gather for the marathon of gift opening. Unlike most families, we did not tear into the packages all at once. No, we made sure the gift opening was an event. Starting with the youngest, each gift was opened one at a time and shown to every person in the house before the next gift was torn into.

Of course, this meant that when there was a good turn-out, it took hours before the oldest opened her gifts. Each person knew that if they received any clothing item that he would be ordered to “model-it” by the crowd. The chants would not cease until the person followed tradition and rubbed the clothing item as he held it against the appropriate body part.

Others might offer unwanted assistance with the modeling. Cat calls would ring out as women rubbed soft sweaters over their chests and men held pants up and did their rubbing.

Okay, reading this makes it sound perverted and sick, but it was all in good fun. The added bonus was that new family members, like shy girlfriends, got a real taste of the family they might marry into. Inevitably, someone made sure these newbies had silky nighties to model. Most acquiesced and “modeled it,” red faced and nearly in tears, in front of this group of barbarians.

The gift opening always concluded with a rousing chorus or two of "Silent Night." Then, the group broke-up into card players and TV watchers/paper readers. Dessert and seconds on dinner kept everyone eating

As with most things, those Christmas traditions fizzled with time. Cousins married. Aunts divorced. Babies were born. Many moved. Even though being present wasn’t always possible, knowing that many still gathered around Grandma’s table brought comfort to those who could not be there.

My children only experienced this great gathering once or twice before everything changed and the traditions that were steadfast for decades dissolved. They were overwhelmed by the enormity of the gathering. The loud raucous laughter. The massive numbers of unfamiliar people to kiss and hug. The sounds of the TV competing with the sounds of many voices telling many stories all at once. It was sensory overload for my little girls.

By comparison, our Christmas is subdued. Now we rely on phone calls and Facebook to reach out to one another and share the day that we once experienced together in real time. We reminisce while trying to feel grateful rather than regretful. We mourn our losses quietly.

My little family has made its own traditions that we anticipate each year. The season starts with decorating the tree and Christmas cookies. My sister and I use these special times to torture our mother and each other. For mom, we like to make sure when decorating the sugar cookies that we find increasingly offensive ways to make her perfect shapes look crude. Yellow snow on the snowmen. Gunshot holes on the reindeer. Using scraps of dough and a bit of artistic creativity brings a little bit of sex education to the cookie tray.

We also relish in making fun of mom as we decorate the tree. Mom was lucky enough to inherit antique, hand-blown, glass ornaments. She mistakenly told us one day many years ago, “These are worth a lot of money.” So of course my sister and I will not let that go. As we gingerly place each ornament on the tree (being sure to cluster them all in one area so my OCD mom will shriek in frustration) we recite our script in as exaggerated a way as

Mom's Tree

possible: Me: “Do you see thisornament? Sister: "Yes I do." In unison: "Do you know that this ornament is worth a looooot of money?” Of course we double over in laughter each time as my mother tells us to “Shut-Up!” My girls love this tradition and join in when we decorate mom’s tree together. We even do it over Skype or Face Time when necessary.

My sister and I each have a childhood ornament that we place on mom’s tree. Hers is a soft Santa dressed in red felt with a fluffy white beard on his plastic red cheeked face. Mine is a felt Topo Gigio mouse who dons striped tights and an elf hat atop his decapitated head. Each year we find increasingly disturbing ways to reposition or defile the ornaments. I won’t go into too much detail as you already know we are sick minded folks. Some years I scheme and plan my Santa torture for weeks prior to the big day. Other years, I just come up with something off-the-cuff. This year I made my liberal sisters Santa hold a pro-Trump sign. She was horrified. Mission accomplished.

Topo Gigio

Looks like the Santa

Most of our traditions are quiet and more socially acceptable like reading Twas the Night Before Christmas, watching the Grinch, and eating seafood on Christmas eve, you know regular stuff. It’s good to know that we will always mix-it up and have fun too. When you’re at our house you never know if that gift you are about to open will be the shiny gold shirt that