Celebrating St Lucia Day

Shortly after starting my family history research I had an epiphany: my children and I actually shared the DNA of the people I was researching!

We weren't just related to Swedes and Germans, we were English and Swedish and German (and Manx and two other ethnicities, but that discovery came much later.)

This meant we had to do more than have an ethnic heritage; we needed to honor our ethnic heritage.

I asked my daughters (then 10 and 11 years old) to choose the country whose traditions we would include in our upcoming Christmas celebration. Would it be Germany, Sweden or England? They decided on Sweden.

We checked books out from the public library (did I mention this was in the 80s?) and read about Sweden's holiday traditions.

On December 13th the girls and I drove to Chicago where we watched the crowning of a young St Lucia.

We explored the Swedish American museum in Andersonville, bought pastries at Nelson's Bakery, chose a few special straw ornaments at the Swedish Museum Gift Shop, and had dinner at a tiny restaurant called Svea's.

During dinner, Svea's owner played the guitar, serenading his patrons. Several diners added their voices to the Swedish Christmas music he played. The whole day was magical.

As part of our Christmas celebration a couple weeks later, my daughters served their grandmother and aunts Lussekatter buns while dressed in traditional St Lucia Day attire. 

The following year, I asked which country (Germany or England) we should explore during the next holiday. Shocked that I would ask such a question (!), the girls said Sweden would be our focus. Always.

Music at Svea happened only once since that first Swedish Christmas 25 years ago. But the melody will play in my heart forever.

The Spirit of Halloween

Pre-historic Halloween

When I was a kid Halloween was super fun. My favorite parts were choosing a costume and dashing from house to house screaming "trick or treat!" Our neighbors would toss candy into our bags and we'd yell a hurried "thank you" as we raced to the next house. The goal was to get as much candy as we could before it was time to head home.

Easy-peasy costume creation

At home the contents of the bag were dumped on the kitchen table where my mother would sort the edible from the dangerous-looking. The keepers were put in a large bowl to be rationed out and savored as Mom allowed.

Two (year old) of hearts

When I became the Mom, my favorite part was costume creation. Candy inspection and rationing became my responsibility. Chocolate was highly suspect, and I would have to taste-test it to ensure its safety. Yum.

Grandpa cut out the "m"...twice

When I became the Grandma, Halloween presented new favorite parts. My grandkids would tell me what they wanted to "be" for the big day. I loved hearing their excitement during our conversations about their choices.

Cap't Hook and the Alarm Clock Alligator

Weeks before the bewitching hour I searched for patterns and choose fabric. I'd pin, cut, and sew, imagining how adorable my grandchildren would look in their new creations.

To infinity and beyond!

Then I'd drive hundreds of miles to do last minute alterations, take pictures, and follow the happy trick-or-treaters on their candy-collecting rounds. I miss having a group of little ones that let me tag along. Those cute costumes are a thing of the past too. The grandkids are too cool for that.

A few of my favorite Trick or Treaters

These days my favorite part is decorating the house and the yard in preparation for the neighborhood Trick-or-Treaters and their parents. Oh and um, taste-testing the candy. Especially the chocolate.

Not to worry - the spider is friendly

Wordless Wednesday ~ Happy Birthday Lamb

Wordless Wednesday ~ Gone Fishin'



Um that's okay Dad. Why don't you hold him?



Wordless Wednesday ~ Honoring Veterans

Wordless Wednesday ~ Birthday Boy

Wordless Wednesday ~ Just Married

Wordless Wednesday ~ Easter Bonnet

Wordless Wednesday ~ Lutefisk Dinner

Scraps of Family History

A pile of books about family history scrapbooking waits patiently on my desk. I've become obsessed with creating a written and photographic record for my descendants.

What a celebration there would be if I discovered a diary written by my great-great grandmother! Or a photo album compiled by a long lost great-aunt. Heck, I'd be happy to see brief notes my ancestors had written to one another, wouldn't you?

The books I'm reading encourage me to start by preserving one story, one event, or one photo and the tale it tells. How excited I would be if any one of my ancestors had done this for me!

Some stories are in the here and now; the first big snow of 2010 with pictures taken while running from falling tree branches. Others are in the past; tales of a much beloved pet who now resides in cat heaven. The one I'll share today spans the past, the present and possibly the future.

When I was a kid we had a 20 foot flagpole in our front yard. My dad was uncompromising about the care of the flag that flew from sun up to sundown everyday. In the morning, one of my sisters or I would hold one end of the flag while Daddy hooked it to the cord and raised it by a pulley. In the evenings we would lower the flag and fold it width-wise twice. Then starting at the striped end, we made a triangle fold 13 times, one for each colony.

My parents divorced and my mother had the flagpole removed. Folding the flag was relegated to Girl Scouts and parades, until last month when my dad was laid to rest at Fort Snelling National Cemetery.

Uniformed volunteers folded the flag that had been draped over Daddy's casket. With a 'thank you' for the service my father gave his country, they placed the flag in my stepmother's hands. Pastor said a few more words and the crowd started to thin. In a moment of immeasurable generosity, my stepmom turned to me and said, "You should have this." Then she handed me the flag. And returned the memory of my dad holding his end as we moved closer to each other with every fold.

Today the framed flag resides next to a photo of more than a hundred uniformed men, one of whom is my husband's late father. The stories of our veteran dads have merged and will be told to our grandchildren as one. The future will tell which of them will take ownership of the treasures and the stories. Perhaps the first to erect a flagpole in their front yard.

Traditions in Today's Family History

It would be nice to know more about my ancestors' favorite traditions. Not just the holiday celebrations, but the everyday stuff that made up their day-to-day lives.

Did they meet for brunch after church? Was there a dress code for gatherings? Did Grandma knit a blanket for every newborn? Were there special places they always visited? What made their family unique among the millions of families on the planet?

In our family, there's a big difference between parents and grandparents. The parents are all about teaching; manners, safety, rules, good sportsmanship, appropriate behavior. And they do an exceptional job. We grandparents have much more freedom between the lines. And therein lies the fun.

I have two rules when my grandchildren are passengers in my car. First, you must wear your safety belt. And second, you must wear cool glasses. The first time I packed fun sunglasses was a lark. My four oldest grandchildren, blessed with incredible senses of humor, enjoyed the experience. Rinse and repeat, and voila! A tradition is born.

Fun glasses are part of what makes our family unique. What traditions play a role in the family history you are creating?