Tradition means a lot to me, especially when it’s MY traditions we’re talking about. Still, I have some childhood memories of the night. Like, for example, what I wrote back in 2012:
I have no traditions for New Years. I do remember, however, that my mother used to have us take a lit candle to every corner of the house. It was a Pennsylvania Dutch (German) tradition, she said. Nowadays, I think that it was a remarkably unusual thing for a preacher's wife to do. No wonder I'M so unusual...One other thing from my childhood I don’t seem to have mentioned before: When I was a little boy, we lived right next door to the church where my dad was the pastor. I can remember that on New Year’s Eve, my dad brought me with him to the church just before midnight. We made our way to the church organ, and right at midnight, he let me flick the switch that made the bell ring. I suppose he counted to 12, but I know he told me when to switch it off. I felt honoured and excited to take part in that, but I also felt really special that my dad let me do that.
All these years later, and whether spent alone or with mobs of people, nothing has surpassed going to the church with my dad, who let me ring the bell to signal the New Year.
Happy New Year to you all, and I hope that you have—or will make—memories that are every bit as indelible.
This is my 365th post for this year: My annual average has been achieved, and I can now relax—indeed, so can you all, secure in the knowledge that if I now die before making another post, my goal for 2014 has been achieved. (yes, I know one shouldn’t joke about such things, but, as I said a couple years ago, I AM unusual…)