Keith Barlow shares about a family tradition.
One of my favorite maxims is that “tradition is just peer pressure from dead people.” That is, we should not feel bound by the rules made by our predecessors merely because their ghosts sit on our shoulders and whisper in our ears.
But that doesn’t mean that tradition isn’t important.
I grew up with a tradition of traveling to Merced for Thanksgiving. Despite the interminable drive from Pleasanton, this was a wonderful tradition played out by three generations of family in the home of my aunt and uncle. Memories of setting up the tables and chairs and roughhousing on the front lawn still bring out the childhood glee in this grandfather. Now in our 60s to 80s, my siblings and my cousins all hold in our hearts many fond memories of those gatherings.
This tradition carried on for more than 30 years, but now the two older generations are gone, as well as the home in which we gathered. And the family tree has three new generations, spread from the Bay Area to Florida and Palm Springs to Chicago so it is prohibitively hard to get everyone together and now the memories of the old traditions are fading with the new generations.
