Holiday Traditions
Season’s Greetings, Bad Gifts, and the Fucking Potatoes
I was raised with a big family. When we all gather for holidays, we’re talking about 20-30 people coming together to celebrate. Growing up, I was always fascinated by those that had a small family Christmas. One friend in high school told me how Christmas consisted of him and his parents having dinner and opening presents. I couldn’t comprehend it!
Looking back on this as the upcoming holiday season approaches, I’ve been thinking about holiday traditions and how they start. There are the new traditions, and the old ones passed down through generations. My dad’s side of the family is Italian and Czech, while my mom’s side of the family is Slovenian and Czech. For me, growing up, our holiday traditions were dictated by my grandmothers, and those traditions were ones that had been passed down from their parents.
Arriving to the United States by way of the coal mines in Michigan, my mom’s side of the family eventually settled in Chicago. My grandma Julie grew up during the Great Depression. Her and her parents and her ten siblings shared a two-bedroom apartment! Her father would get the only piece of meat in their soup during dinner, since he went out to work every day to support the family. Despite what sounds like a tough way to grow up, her memories of holidays and time spent with her family were always filled with love and joy. She carried this tradition of joyous celebration and love every holiday. Traditional foods like nadivka and kolaches and potica were always an expected staple on the table.
My grandma Lorre’s father arrived from Italy through Ellis Island in 1909. He met his wife and also settled in the Chicago area. Ever since I was a little kid, every single year for Christmas, we had Italian beefs for dinner. As I started to write this post, I called my dad to ask how that tradition came about. It’s because we’re Italian American, I assume? I asked. My dad laughed. He explained that yes, when he was a kid, they ate all the traditional Italian (and even Bohemian) foods that his grandparents made, but when it was Grandma Lorre’s turn to host Christmas, she was the one that started the tradition of Italian beefs because she wasn’t a great cook and that was the easiest way to serve dinner to a bunch of people.
Just like that, new traditions are born! What I thought was steeped in family history, was really just a silly coincidence that nevertheless morphed into something meaningful anyways. And that’s the great thing about traditions! There are the old traditions, those of my grandparent’s parents that were carried forward over the generations, and there are the new traditions that sparked into being as each celebration added its own unique flare.
For Thanksgiving every year, a tradition on my mom’s side was to go out to the back acres of land my grandparents owned and shoot at things, mostly target or trap and skeet. It became quite the traditional event every year, with members of the family saving things like big old tube TVs for target practice during the holiday. Now, before you think this is absolutely crazy, at least let me explain my grandpa was a long-time hunter with a lot of natural land…and well…yeah…maybe it was a little crazy. But it truly was a family event that we planned and looked forward to every year.
Potatoes are another tradition on my mom’s side. I remember someone’s boyfriend coming to Thanksgiving dinner and being astounded by how many potatoes were on the table — sweet, mashed, and casserole. I hadn’t thought anything of it before that. Perhaps the most famous potatoes on the table, though, are the Fucking Potatoes. One holiday, my mom and her sisters were in the kitchen with my grandma, stressed about the upcoming dinner and debating back and forth about who should make what food. My grandma (the sweetest, most-kindest lady ever who never swore or got mad, ever) breaks into their debate and says: “Well, I’ll just make the fucking potatoes.” She said it for shock value. Everyone laughed and relaxed. Now, we always make sure someone brings the Fucking Potatoes for every holiday.
Perhaps the greatest and most memorable tradition on my dad’s side is the bad gift exchange. It all started with my Great Grandma Verre and her friend Anna. Anna was known for re-gifting birthday cards by crossing off the previous name and writing in a new one, and giving exceptionally bad gifts, including, once, a grapefruit. One year on Christmas, my Aunt Lynne gave my Grandma Lorre a grapefruit from “Anna” as a joke and from there, the bad gift tradition was born. To date, my Christmas gifts have included a can of spam, someone’s old bridesmaid dress, and toilet paper. There is a can of spotted dick that has been floating around since 1992— the continuous bad regift, along with a pair of patent white leather shoes. I haven’t actually received a real gift in decades.
New traditions mix with the old and become a unique part of your family. Sometimes family members pass on or new people join. Traditions are a celebration of current family and all those that have come before us. I now also have stepfamily that is Australian Italian and was introduced to Boxing Day and the tradition of an intense gift unwrapping game with an annual trophy. In a strange twist of fate, Italian beefs are also served for dinner!
It is funny, as a kid I always hated Italian beefs. Now, I kind of look forward to them. The basis for most holidays starts with religious and social customs, but then these customs morph and take on unique aspects per each individual family’s history. No matter what strange traditions come along with it! Holidays are good reminders of the past and the present, and a reminder of what to be thankful for.
Wishing everyone a joyous holiday season filled with lots of strange traditions. Don’t forget to wrap up a bad gift and bring the Fucking Potatoes!
~Elise Posledni