Tales of Christmas Present

When we lived in Toledo, Christmas had a definite pattern. I suppose you could call them traditions, although I think that implies handing down through generations, whereas this was more just what we did every year while I was growing up. More on that another day, when I'm feeling more nostalgic. 

After we moved, we lost our pattern to Christmas. A part of it was that we were getting older, but it was mostly being away from the extended family, the church we had always attended, the things we had grown up with. We tried to establish some sort of pattern, but it never took. It was all very frustrating, and, of course, you look around and think everyone else is having this great time at Christmas, surrounded by friends and family, and you are stuck with a bunch of people you don't know at this church that plays the wrong Christmas carols. It was just depressing.

Now that Andrea and my parents are back in Ohio, a bit of a pattern is emerging. A part of it involves Andrea's in-laws, who have the Christmas traditions they've been following forever: Christmas Eve at Dom's parents, Christmas Day at Aunt Diane's, that sort of thing. I have no problem with that, in fact, I'm a bit jealous, but when we go there, we hang of the outskirts, looking in. I tend to avoid these gatherings, as they emphasize my feelings of being an outsider. However, they have given us a framework for our holiday, and something to work off of. 

The one thing that stuck around throughout all the years is my dad's insane need for fresh kielbasa at breakfast Christmas morning. This was actually a surprisingly difficult request when we lived in Pennsylvania. You would go to the meat counter and they'd try to give you the smoked nonsense, packaged in plastic. Oh, please! This is not grey meat! Fresh kielbasa is both incredibly nasty and awesome. The spices, the fat, the fact that it takes about 5 hours to cook properly and then your house smells like the stuff for about 3 weeks. Luckily, we found a local place that made it (Illg's), so Christmas was saved! Every year, Christmas breakfast: fresh kielbasa. And about 2 hours later, I am throwing that stuff up. I swear, I cannot remember the last Christmas with my family that I was not purging by noon. (Family joke: "I'm feeling Illg's.") 

The Campbell family holiday tradition: greasy meat and vomiting. It's a wonderful life.