Each of my adult children seem to be finding their own comfortable sense of tradition about holiday celebrations. It’s good to see.

Somewhere in the early Eighties, I did the same. I’d come to a point where I didn’t recognize the main stated elements of any of the holidays in the way they were being experienced in my own home.

New Year’s day was the exception. No one in my family embraced the resolution part, but it was event free, obligations free, and therefore stress free and enjoyable. We stayed up late after eating things that rarely were found in the house and usually we watched old black and white movies.

Next up was Valentines day, February 14. At school we were encouraged to send a card to every other member of the class until the sixth or seventh grade. After that, we were on our own. In grade school we would buy a box of cards just like the other kids and we’d write the name of a recipient and sign our name. There was a card exchange in class. Harmless.

Then came Independence Day. That one was also stress free, at least for me. There were barbeques sometimes we went and saw fireworks. Those never much impressed me as a child.

Labor day meant the start of school. We finally got to wear the new clothes we’d worked all summer to buy.

Halloween was fun, but not the prep. We had to come up with a costume. When I was small that meant we got a plastic mask to stick over our faces. Toward the end I ran out of ideas for costumes because I couldn’t think of anything or any character I wanted to pretend to be. So in that regard, the stress began to show up with that holiday. I grabbed a sheet and cut holes in it to make a ghost the last time I actually “dressed up” for trick or treat.

Christmas had a certain magic to it, but in different ways. Mom keeps lamenting the dad hated that one. I never noticed.

What I remember was my mom’s emphasis on “gifts” as the core of the celebration. For years my siblings and I got soap on a rope, after shave in strange bottles, strange trinkets, and new socks. Mom made new pajamas for several years, but that turned out not to have been any boost for the holiday spirit. Most of the gifts were wasted expense. I do remember getting surprises though. Once it was a guitar. Another time it was oil pastels.

My grand parents didn’t seem to have any more of a tradition then to help out others in various meaningful ways. It wasn’t until long after they departed before I started learning of any of that. I don’t recall much decoration at their house and I’m not sure I ever saw a Christmas tree there.

After I married, the whole face of the holiday began to change. It presented a new challenge to two people with different ideas about how to celebrate.

There were honest efforts made to wring out and inject in joy, but when it came to gifts and visiting family, it became very stressful.

When we divorced, peace returned. To a large extent, that peace fled when I remarried.

Now, at peace again, I am very low key about Christmas Holiday. One year I even forgot about it.  That’s not recommended. It’s a worthy event, done right.

I’ve been doing the traditional meal for a long time because I like the way it smells, tastes, and looks. Plus it’s an excuse to eat things I don’t usually fix.

The past few years I’ve preferred to read lots of scripture about the star of the show, Christ. Mostly I’ve tended to read about his ministry in Jerusalem and his post resurrection visits and teachings. The more I learn, the more impressed I get.

A bit at a time, the gift giving component of the holiday lost steam until I was only reliably gifting my grand children. This year, I even skipped that.

Most years I send out a very small number of cards. Sometimes the number dips below zero. I found one in the pile this time that I’d written to my father but never sent. My tendency to wait till the last moment would sometimes meet up with my tendency not to have everyone’s street address and my tendency not to be able to get those addresses at the last minute. I gave my mom a birthday card one year that I’d filled out and never sent. Each year I crossed out the year and wrote in the new one. I finally gave it to her because I happened to be in her house on that day and didn’t have to look up the address. As many times as I went there, I never did know the address. The next year she brought it out and asked me to cross out the year and write in it again.

The total ownership of the Christmas holiday routines has not settled with all of the children as yet, but they are all making serious progress. None of them make it an extravaganza but I think they all enjoy the way they’ve come to structure their vision of Christmas.

One of them ignores it almost completely but was one of the last hold outs for gifting me with thoughtful items I use and enjoy.

This year I sent cards. I didn’t buy any gifts. I made a couple of phone calls in the days leading up to the day and enjoyed visiting friends. All in all, a pleasant winter tradition.