Keeping Holiday Traditions Alive

You met the  and have come back each Wednesday to read what they have to say on the newest parenting question. Recently, we invited Wantagh-Seaford Patch parents to join the discussion. 

Passover is here and Easter is coming, so this week we asked our parents: How do you keep holiday traditions alive in your house? What is one of your favorite traditions and how do you get the kids involved and interested?

Jane Cappiello

“Come on over!" Many of our family’s holiday traditions involve more people than just our immediate family. Children and neighbors play a big part in setting our holiday and family traditions.

A festive atmosphere is set with up and coming activities for a that meets in our home. Decorating an Easter basket or flower pot along with planting seedlings is a tradition that we all can’t seem to get away from.

An Easter egg hunt, which takes place on the property (and surrounding homes- the neighbors might not be aware) is something that these children look forward to every year. Traditionally, Easter egg coloring happens the night before Easter Sunday. Many Easter Sunday masses have been celebrated with purple and orange fingertips.

Easter dinner usually takes place in our home with relatives that live close by. I make a conscious effort to use dishware and stemware that had been passed on to us by our parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. The day is pleasant and best of all “new life” is breathed into us. Summer is not far behind.

Cathy Fressle

We are big on the holiday traditions in my house. The bigger the kids get, the harder it is trying to get them to help out. When they were little they loved helping prepare for all the holidays. We still dye eggs at Easter and they never eat them; they still love to get candy and of course a gift for Easter. I keep up with the traditions and hope they will pass them on to their family someday, just like my parents did for me. 

Kathleen Vaughan Ware

Growing up, my family didn’t really have any holiday traditions. I do however remember one holiday meal (not sure which holiday) at my aunt's house. I was 11, and since my father didn’t like driving, anytime we visited relatives was a real treat. Looking back, I guess packing six girls into a 1973 two-door Chevy Nova was no picnic. My youngest sister sat on my mother’s lap in the front seat, the rest of us piled in the back and made faces and flipped the “bird” to cars that glanced in our direction. Good times.

Although we loved going to see my cousins, my aunt was never a pleasant woman. We tried to stay out of her way as she had a tendency to throw slippers at children. Upon arriving at her house, I remember walking in and immediately being overcome by a smell of what I prayed would not be dinner. She was not a good cook, yet she insisted every child “cleared the plate” of food or you could not leave the table. 

After a few hours of playing with my cousins, we were called in to eat and there it was, in the middle of the table, a mound of what appeared to be golf balls with steam, which in fact were my aunt’s version of mashed potatoes. Served with a slab of tasteless ham and canned peas, I knew we would be at that table for hours.

To make matters worse, my parents had gone to a friend’s house across the street. We were on our own with a plate of inedible, ugly food. I glanced over at my cousin, who was eating faster than anyone I had ever seen. She noticed the expression on my face and said “If you eat it fast you really can’t taste anything," at which point she stood up and placed her empty plate in the sink and out she went to play on the swing set.

My aunt quickly became irritated when she realized that my sisters and I were merely pushing the food around. “I wish they had a dog,” my sister Theresa mumbled. Suddenly, there was a shriek from outside, as my cousins started brawling in the backyard. As my aunt rushed out the back door, one by one I took my sisters' plates and quickly emptied the food into the garbage and put the now empty plates into the sink. Just as I had my hand on the last plate, we heard the back door close. In walked my aunt, now even more enraged as she had just finished screaming at my fighting cousins. “Well now, looks like Sharon will be the only one not going outside,” she said. Sharon looked at me with tears in her big green eyes. I knew I couldn’t leave her alone in the kitchen. So I sat down and contemplated my next move. As I looked around the table, I spotted a quart of milk. I waited for my aunt to turn her back to us and I quickly reached for the milk, opened it and spilled it across the food. “Oops, sorry!” I said, and reached for paper towels which I intentionally squashed into the potatoes. “Kathleen, what’s the matter with you!” she yelled. “I said sorry,” I sarcastically replied. “Get out, both of you!” she screamed. I immediately took Sharon by the arm and ran as fast as we could out of the house. Just then, my parents walked up the sidewalk. We gave them a quick version of what had just transpired. “So before you accidently spilled milk all over Sharon’s plate you emptied everyone else’s into the garbage?” my father asked. I nodded yes, to which he grinned and replied “Hope you took the garbage out...” 

Looking back, I don’t think it’s a bad thing not to have holiday traditions. I hear my aunt is now a prison cook...