Santa, Fire Trucks and Waiving to the Past

It was later than expected. In fact, I totally forgot about it until I heard the sirens just after 8:00 p.m. on Saturday evening.  Then it hit me. It was Saturday, the 8th of December; the day Santa was to arrive in our neighborhood followed by the trucks of our local fire department.

Once we figured out what was happening our household was on red alert - coats, shoes, camera... are we ready? Let's go! Out we went to the end of the driveway to wave hello to Santa as he, the red lights and the noise served as another reminder that Christmas and the holiday season have arrived.

As I stood and watched my daughters wave to the big guy (pictured above) I couldn't help but think of traditions and what they mean to us.  As a product of divorced parents my traditions were somewhat complex, not-so-traditional and for the most part ever changing. There wasn't anything wrong with it, and my folks did their best to maintain the traditions of their past, but it was an effort to maintain consistency from year to year. Which brings me back to firetrucks and Santa.

As a kid I remember running as fast as I could to get to the curb to make sure I saw Santa and to make sure he saw me. I remember getting candy canes from the firemen, seeing my neighbors, and going to bed with a level of excitement unmatched until the next pre-Christmas reminder came my way.

As we enter the days of crowded malls, holiday parties and excessive eating (at least for me), I plan to embrace whatever traditions I participate in and whatever traditions our families create. After all, traditions are great and meant to be shared. They are reminders of our past and doorways to our future and are a big part of every family, community and holiday season.

Tonight my daughter and I picked out our tree as my wife and my other daughter stayed home and baked cookies. Perhaps we're starting our own tradition.