Daily #26: Taking a Stand for Traditions

So what do you do when you can't sleep?

Well I just degemed a pomegranate, and I'm eating it right now. Figure I'll blog till I bore myself to sleep...you'd be surprised how long that can take some nights.

So our family has quite the bushel of Christmas traditions. Some of them were perennial favorites--some of them not so much. Many of them were edible and I'll be highlighting some of those soon enough. This one, well, you'll quickly discover that I had a tenuous relationship with this tradition.

Every first Sunday of December the presidency of our church hosts a Christmas devotional where they share messages of the birth of Christ and the real reason for the season. The Mormon Tabernacle choir sings Christmas music. It's a lovely production. Check it out here.

There are far worse ways to spend an hour of the season. Unless you're a teenager whose Christmas attitude is more 'el no than it is Noel.

So the devotional is recorded live from Temple Square, our church's headquarters and then broadcast to meeting houses around the world. If you live within the broadcast region of BYU's public television it's rebroadcast a view hours after. And now it's published to the website. While even growing up there was these alternative viewing methods, there was only one for our family we would watch the broadcast tele-streamed to a local meeting house live.

Now I think that every year I would have embraced the tradition (well more the infamous Hart one armed side hugged the tradition) if it had included sipping cocoa in our christmas pajamas next to the Christmas tree via our television. But as it was, it meant an extra hour in a meeting house, an extra hour in church clothes, the loss of an hour of the three hours a week we had access to cable television at my Grandma's house, and being afraid people there were assuming that a) you didn't have a TV b) you were dumb enough not to know that could watch it on TV c) you were lame enough or swept up in yuletide superiority to disregard a & b and watch it at the meeting house anyways.

Has my conjouring of my pubescent self conveyed an adequate picture of the statistical probabilities that at any one of these broadcasts I was likely very far from enthused to be walking into the devotional Family Von Trapp style.

Here's the most shameful account.

It's Winter.
It's Christmas.
It's the day of the Christmas devotional.
Which means it's been a Fast Sunday (Our Church does a collective fast the first Sunday of every month for two meals read more here)[now by the time of the broadcast we would have eaten dinner but I'm sure my electrolytes hadn't quite balanced out.]
I'm back in a shirt and tie.
I'm back in a meeting house.
I'm somewhere between the ages of 13-17.

The scales are pretty stacked in favor of Grumpy Gus.

Sealing the balance: I had positioned myself at the back of the line of our family in hopes of two things. First, my funeral procession cadence will convey to the few peers in attendance that I'm cool enough to not think that it's cool to be here. Second, and most important, as my family files into the bench I will likely take my place on the end seat of the pew with an arm rest.

The end seat is not just the place to rest your elbows. It's the power seat. Best seat for a quick exit and the arm rest does afford you two options for sleeping. Crink Necked leaning sleep which would have been a nice change of position from my usually Forehead on Forward Pew that I had already used that day I'm sure.

However my plan of action was foiled by someone further up the line of ducks with the same objective/different approach who instead of sliding down parked immediately next to the endseat and let everyone else file past. I caboose in to find they are in 'my' seat. I motion for them to move down. They motion back--not on your life.

Now I could have done the usual Gruff 'n tuff pass making sure to knee them first before I step on both their feet stumbling and then catching myself on their sternum. But I decided to take a noble MLK/Ghandi passive resistance approach by staging a sit over.

And by a 'sit over'. I mean a sit over there where there is an empty row/endseat.

So I sit down opposite of the rest of my family across the aisle disregarding the inevitable silent snap, finger over, finger down motions of my mother by pretending to be engrossed in MoTab's medley of Christmas Carols. I've left them with few options. The program started before we even arrived which I think means will limit my parents ambition to direct further attention to the cold war I have just initiated.

A formidable foe my mother. She did what she does best and ante's up very diplomatically. If Judson won't sit with us we'll sit with him. The family stands exits the pew they have just sat in and crosses the aisle to where I'm sitting.

I'm surprised by the overtness of the gesture but let the row of ducks file past with minimal nudging. Once they are seated, I raise the stakes by following their lead. I stand up and cross the divide again to sit where the family had just warmed the seats.

The ball back in Mom's court, she did what good parents do--let the air out of the ball.

The family sat on their side. I sat on my side. More than likely adrenalin rushing sleep I did not. I knew that I only had an hour to construct a compelling argument to explain my public display of defiance. I don't think I ever got a chance to use what ever pitiful piece of rhetoric I had fashioned.

We may have shared short words of displeasure but it diffused pretty quickly.

I may have won the battle but I had lost the war; the incident has been fodder for family teasing and stereotyping ever since--Grizzly bear is a pretty hard reputation to shake.

Besides sharing this as an explanation as to why I'll send my mom increasingly large mother's day bouquets as I become more educated as to how hard her job was I offer one other take-away point

Establishing family traditions is far from easy. The more meaningful the tradition is the more opposition, internal and external, you will face in maintaining it. While there needs to be some give and take as your family modifies traditions to better meet the traits and temperaments of the family, you can't take down the barn everytime the wind blows.

You have to be willing to accept the unperfect version of your perfect way to spend the holiday as part of the cost of spending it with the people you love the most. Kids even teenagers will learn to appreciate what well-intentioned traditions represent, even if they never fully appreciate the tradition its self.

Thanks for thinking I was worth putting up with me.