Tradition--Tradition

This post is dedicated to my little brother Neil who is turning 30 something this month.  You are one of the people that made these traditions special and I love you!

One of my fellow bloggers--you know who you are--requested that people leave comments on a recent post telling about special holiday traditions.  I commented that we have too many to list in a comment section and that I would blog about them on Frodo Seven as they come up this season.

Before I do that however, I thought I'd write a background post about the history of our traditions and what coming home for Christmas means to me.

The sad reality is, I can never again truly go home for Christmas.  For me, "home" at Christmas is 2503 Lisbon Lane Alexandria, VA.  If I were to ring the bell at that address these days, a stranger would open the door on a room that I wouldn't recognize.  Not too long ago though, it was my home, the place where, especially at Christmas, I was surrounded by the people I love, doing things that bonded us as a family.  

I am the oldest of five and I think I have the best parents anyone could ever want.  They gave us everything we needed and more and although our Christmases were humble, they were full of meaning.  I have fond memories of doing Advent wreath and putting out shoes for St. Nick.  I have even more fond memories of Christmas Eve when we would finally decorate the tree we'd chosen from our parish tree lot.  My mom painstakingly arranged the lights.  Dad brought down the chocolate Santas which we would all try to hide in various places on the tree in order to get the last one.  There were new ornaments for our ornament boxes, Christmas carols and cookies.  Our Christmas music was all on records (and if you don't know what those are, well, I don't know what to tell you).  In the evening, we would go to Mass, eat dinner, have birthday cake for Jesus and then process through the house with candles and the figures from the manger, blessing our home for another year.  

At some point in my childhood, I came up with the brilliant idea that my brothers and I should have a middle of the night party to check out all of the loot, drink Sprite and eat Fritos and bean dip (gross!).  I remember walking to 711, buying our stash, hiding it, setting the alarm for 2AM, getting up giggling and playing Pitfall on the Atari until all hours of the morning.  Little did we know that after the first year, our parents had caught on to our escapades but let us continue in the interest of sibling bonding.  They did start wrapping the presents in our stockings though.  We held those three person parties* for many years until our love of sleep finally overcame our love of....Fritos? (I still can't see a can of bean dip without thinking of my brothers--thank you for always being up for my crazy ideas!)

I think there must be a part of heaven that looks exactly like that house on Lisbon Lane.  For me, it was the house that Love built.  

More on Doyle Family traditions tomorrow. 

*I have to apologize to my little sisters Tara and Jamie who missed out on the middle of the night party fun.  By the time you were old enough, I was too old.  Lo siento.