I love traditions. Now, when I say I love traditions, I’m not just talking about Santa and the Easter Bunny, though those two do own a special piece of my heart. I’m talking all kinds. Global traditions, family traditions.
I love movies with songs about traditions. One of my all time favorite movies is Fiddler On The Roof. The very first song is entitled “Tradition”. In the movie, the main character, Tevye, is faced with many obstacles that test his reasoning behind his traditions.
When I was growing up, there was never a supper on the table at my grandparents house that did not include a bowl of sliced purple onions. Just plain ol’ raw onions. Every supper. And why? Tradition. They’d always had purple onions on their table for supper.
When I went away to college at Howard Payne University, the fighting yellow jackets, anytime we sang the alma mater we raised our pinky (or ”stingers”) in the air and pointed them toward Old Main. Every time, without fail. Why? Tradition.
When I got married to the love of my life, we stood before the minister (my father-in-law) and said our vows, “For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.” Why? You got it, tradition.
And while this word has taken on a rather negative connotation nowadays, I am unashamedly proclaiming to the world that I love traditions! I think my chicken and rice tastes better with a slice of purple onion. I own a gold and blue beanie from my Daze of Payne. And if tradition could regurgitate, it straight up spewed all over my wedding!
There is something comforting about tradition. It’s familiar. It’s relatable. It’s a connection. It’s remembering. It’s the past meeting the present. It’s that cozy feeling you get in the pit of your being.
Ok, so maybe a purple onion doesn’t do that for you, but what I see in that little circle is a childhood of memories. That onion represents every grade school summer on my grandparents farm. It encompasses an innocence. Cousins on scavenger hunts, giggling in the garden. Tractor rides, and drive-in movies. To you, it’s just an onion. For me, it’s a tradition.
So I ask myself? What traditions am I doing in my family with my children that, 30 years from now, will have them looking longingly into a bowl of onions? What am I passing down to them, that they will pass down to my grand and great-grand children?
Remember that song “Tradition” I mentioned earlier? One of the lines Tevye says in that song is: ”You may ask, how did this tradition get started? I’ll tell you. I don’t know. But it’s a tradition.”
Joseph: Thrown in a pit and left for dead by his own brothers. Sold as a slave. Falsely accused. Thrown in prison. Promises made to him. Promises broken.
