On my mom's side of the family, which contains Dutch heritage, long lives the tradition of including an imported jar of pickled herring along side the Christmas ham and turkey. Long before I was born the family gathered every Christmas Eve to the basement of my great grandparents' home to enjoy dinner, exchange gifts, and eat pickled herring. The home today, which is the residence of my Great-Aunt Virginia, has had some updates and touch ups, but enough of the original retro furniture and artwork pre 1960’s remains to make you feel back in the presence of Great-Grandma and Grandpa, and every other Christmas Eve of my childhood. I wouldn't want the setting any different. The growth of the family and addition of a new generation with my two sons doesn't change our tradition of meeting up in the basement lined with vintage couches and antique books. We continue to enjoy the feast laid out on the pool table, unwrap gifts, laugh at gag gifts, and watch the children's anticipation build for the approaching dawn.
On our way home JR and I had a conversation about tradition and change. What is better, tradition or something new? In an ever-changing world with high speed internet, high-def television, and high fructose corn syrup, the traditions and rituals of the past can be stabilizing, comforting, and remind us of the important aspects in life. They ground us to family and good friends, and help us practice generosity and sentiment. I certainly benefit from new tastes and ideas, but don't want to forget the old and abiding.
On Christmas Eve I scooped myself a serving from Aunt Virginia's large bowl of tapioca pudding, not only to satisfy my sweet tooth, but to partake in the time-honored taste of Christmas. On Christmas day I made "Santa Cookies" with my dad and thought about his mother who began making them decades ago. After Christmas fondue at my in-laws, we read a little out of Grandmother Lova's compilation of Christmas stories, songs, and pictures she handed out before she passed away.
Christmas gave us an opportunity to remember the past, and connect with our loved ones, both living and beyond this life.
I'm sure my ancestors were thrilled that upon his first taste, Emerson enjoyed the pickled herring so much, I had to cut him off.
Smelling his Christmas orange. He really was excited about it showing up in his stocking after asking for one just as the little bear receives in The Sweet Smell of Christmas.
"Super Capes"
His daddy made him some maple, all-natural teething toys. He likes the elephant. 
Our attempt at a nativity with the grandkids. Half of the cast bailed. Here you have Mary, Baby Jesus, and a cow. Emerson wanted to be the cow.
Admiring the Christ Child.
Total improv.
"The cattle are Lowing, the poor baby wakes. . .
But little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes."
