And next year, we're celebrating Festivus.

Tonight (if, in our lousy state of ill-health, we feel up to it), Steve and I will light Hanukkah candles, then open a bottle of wine and put up our Christmas tree. This will be a first for me - a Christmas tree in my very own home, twinkling gaily while the Hanukkah candles flicker. I have run through a huge range of emotions over this prospect, but finally I'm content with it, and I'm truly excited about the fun of decorating our first tree in our new house.

Steve has been respectful of, even enthusiastic about my celebrations. He has asked to hold the shammes and light the candles in our menorah every night this week, and last night he was humming along perfectly while I chanted the Hebrew blessings. He's participated unflinchingly in the mandatory song-before-present requirement, and I believe he ate seconds of my mother's latkes on Tuesday.

So it seems only fair that I show similar ardor towards his traditions. I'm there now, I know, because the sight of our fuzzy St. Nick's Day stockings on the mantel made me smile last night. But because I've spent so many years fighting against the ubiquity of Christmas and battling to keep it out of my schools and workplaces, something about allowing a tree in my very own home felt like capitulation. After considerable soul-searching, I finally concluded that my ambivalence about having a tree and celebrating Christmas with Steve stems from the barrage of Christmasness that assaults me at every turn (as Bart Simpson puts it: "Christmas is the time of year when people of all religions come together to worship Jesus Christ"). But celebrating the holidays our way, within the privacy of our own home, is exactly what I believe people should be doing. And so we will.

Because neither of us is particularly religious, we each view the holiday season as a time for joy, celebration, quality family time, and good food. But despite the non-religious nature of our respective celebrations, I have no desire to "blend" our holidays. I prefer, instead, that we keep Hanukkah and Christmas as distinct celebrations, different in purpose, observance, importance, and commercialism. I hope that in doing so, we can revel in and build on the best that each holiday has to offer, and perpetuate many of our families' traditions while creating new ones of our own. With the old rituals, like giving socks for one night of Hanukkah and filling stockings with goodies on St. Nick's Day, we pass on to each other our family lore, and preserve our heritage for (theoretical) future generations. And with the new ones, we begin writing the story of the family we are becoming together.

I am already growing attached to these traditions-in-the-making, like "sexy gift night" during Hanukkah (no, mom, I'm not telling you what we exchanged for this), and our new red, wooden, heart-shaped picture-frame ornament, which will be the first we place on the tree tonight. Whatever their roots or symbolism, they all have the effect of filling our home with love and happiness and providing us with opportunities to pamper one another. There's really no downside to that. Even if Santa Claus doesn't bring me a KitchenAid mixer.

Comments

[C]

Great (as usual) entry. I couldn't agree more that people should celebrate holidays in their own way, in the privacy of their own homes.

It's fascinating, this melding of families and traditions. You and Steve sound so incredibly grounded and realistic in every other regard, I'm not even a bit surprised that this transition is going smoothly.

My husband and I are also melding our holidays, and I'm really happy with how it's going. It will be interesting, in a few years, to see what becomes tradition.

Happiest holidays, lovely lady.

[Gramercy]

Glad to see you guys figured something out -- happy holidays (both of them)!