The Book of New Family Traditions (4 page)

This isn’t meant to denigrate simple rituals at all, because some of the simplest can be incredibly powerful. These often just happen spontaneously and should be treasured.

Two examples: I once interviewed a woman whose family had a simple ritual from her childhood of squeezing one another’s hands three times, to signal the three words I love you. On the day she got married and her father walked her down the aisle in church, he squeezed her hand three times. Only she knew that this was happening, a tiny personal ritual lodged invisibly within one of the grandest and most public, and she says it was one of the most moving moments of her life.

Another incredibly simple ritual, also between a father and daughter, was called “Gimme Skins,” and it simply consisted of the dad giving his little girl “high fives” with his palms before heading off to work. I met this woman years later, when she was running a day care center for a major corporation. She told me that one day when she was about three years old, she woke up late because she had been sick. Her dad had left for work without doing their little ritual, and she was so alarmed, without thinking, she literally ran into the street in front of her house naked! To an adult, this might be a tiny ritual, but its absence left a big hole in her day.

Whether your rituals are small and spontaneous or complicated and planned out, giving some thought to their structure and the signals that you send to family members and they send to you will make these shared moments more memorable.

The Two P’s:Find Your Purpose, and Make It Personal

The seed for a ritual’s form, the central action of a ritual, grows directly from its purpose. That includes everything from holidays to problem-solving rituals. Figure out your purpose, and then you can imagine creative ways to achieve it that suit your family.

Take this problem-solving ritual: After they were in a minor car accident, the Suttons vowed they would never again forget to buckle their seatbelts, so they decided to invent a seatbelt ritual. The purpose, of course, is buckling, which becomes the ritual “action,” but this has to be preceded by a simple beginning to cue the behavior, which turns out to be Mary Sutton, the mother, saying, “Buckle up, everyone!” After they buckle, Mary asks her three kids why they do this, and they all chorus back, “Because we love each other!” This qualifies as a “celebration” ending: The kids may not get cake or cookies, but there is an emotional payoff.

The first year my son went trick-or-treating, I invented the Good Witch of Halloween. My purpose was this: I was afraid he’d want to eat that huge candy hoard and I wanted to find a fun reason for it to disappear. Because Max’s birthday was two weeks later, I told him to put his plastic pumpkin full of candy outside his bedroom door the night before he turned three. The Good Witch of Halloween would come and take the candy for poor children and replace it with a small birthday gift, which he would find when he awoke. Not surprisingly, my son loved this ritual, and it achieved my goal.

For a Thanksgiving ritual, the purpose is to give thanks. But when it comes to narrowing down the millions of possible ways to do that ritual-wise, it’s helpful to focus on another P—make it personal. Take something from your family’s history or passions to create a ritual of thankfulness that will be much more meaningful than a generic ritual because it is specific to you.

One family I know loves to camp, so all of them dress up like pilgrims and Indians each Thanksgiving and canoe out to an island where they put on a rather primitive outdoor feast (they precook the turkey). Another family of avid needleworkers started a special tablecloth ritual for Thanksgiving: Every person at the table signs his or her name in pen on the cloth, and the family matriarch later embroiders over the signatures, a different color each year. Then there’s the family whose ancestors nearly starved out west, surviving one bad year only on turnips; they include a turnip dish every Thanksgiving, thankful they have so much else to eat now.

Ritual Actions

The bigger and more ceremonial the occasion, the more elaborate the ritual, and the more attention must be devoted to the ritual’s central action. But what is the right action for a ritual? One that powerfully expresses the core emotional truth of the ceremony.

Think of the actions within a wedding and the way in which the ceremony combines speaking with doing. It isn’t just the vows that make us feel married, it’s also the action of placing rings on each other’s fingers. The circle is a powerful symbol of eternity, and we are placing this physical object around a part of another person’s body. A designer wedding dress, elegant flowers, and a string quartet will add to the atmosphere, but this simple act is the emotional core of the ritual.

But sometimes, there is no ritual pattern to follow. I decided, for example, to invent a ritual when I legally changed my last name to that of my husband and changed my first name to Meg, instead of my birth name, Margaret. To me, this seemed to require a sort of baptism. I decided I needed to submerge myself and asked my friend if I could dive into her swimming pool before witnesses—in a dress. She is such a dear and understanding friend that she didn’t even blink (though my husband was a little dubious when I first suggested my plan).

I spoke to the group before I dived, explaining why I was doing this. I dove in and swam to the shallow end, where my husband stood waiting for me with a glass of champagne. We toasted, and kissed. And afterward, we celebrated with our friends, eating cake. I changed into a new T-shirt, on which my new name was painted.

I’ve thought a lot about what constitutes a major milestone in a child’s life, and how each can be marked. One way, borrowed from tribal rites of passage, is to create a threshold or gateway, an actual barrier that the child must cross through as he or she acts out this important transition.

There are lots of ways this can be done. Lynn Rosen and her husband tape streamers and newspaper comics across their kids’ bedroom doors each year on the night before their birthdays, and when they wake up (after alerting their parents to grab the camera), they burst through the paper, into their new age. I know of a private preschool where the kids “graduate” by walking across a bridge made of wooden blocks: They are literally embraced by the kindergartners waiting on the other side.

You could expand on this idea by organizing a “love gauntlet”—two parallel rows of people—and gently push and hug the celebrated one down the line.

In the case of my son, I’ve created thresholds using painted bedsheets, which are taped to the entrance over the family room. I cut a slit up from the floor, and Max has to cross through the sheet to get to his presents. (See Birthday section for details.)

Simple actions become profound when placed in a context of ritual focus and meaning: When I wanted to create a womanhood ritual for my niece on her thirteenth birthday, it was mostly about the words I spoke, but they carried extra weight because we were standing inside a circle of sparklers on the beach, in the dark.

If a ritual is about letting go, than the action of burying something in the ground is a possibility, as is releasing helium balloons. We did the latter after scattering my father’s ashes on the golf course. Tied to each balloon was a farewell message to my dad, and seeing those bright balloons swept out of sight by the wind provoked a visceral feeling of release.

If you can’t think of a ritual action, a great place to start is by mentally going through the list of four elements (earth, air, fire, and water) and asking if any of them fit the core emotional truth. A ritual of remembrance, for example, could include lighting a candle (fire) and talking about a deceased person or pet, or planting a tree for that person (earth).

Starter Ideas for Using the Four Elements in Rituals

Earth

Earth is used for burying things in ceremonies of mourning or remembrance, such as pet funerals, or writing down a list of bad experiences or habits you want to get past and literally burying them in a box underground. Conversely, earth is symbolic of new life, new beginnings. To mark the beginning of a new baby, home, venture, or relationship, plant something. This could be in a pot or your yard. It could be seeds or baby trees, wildflowers, or flowering shrubs. Plant sunflower seeds every year with your kids to welcome spring. Months before turning fifty (a spring birthday), I planted fifty daffodil bulbs outside my kitchen window. Search online for an old-fashioned list of what different flowers and plants “mean,” such as red tulips to declare love and ivy as a symbol of fidelity.

Air

Air suggests wind and balloons, a ritual staple. There is an intimation of buoyancy and breeziness, which is hopeful. Kites are good, too: When my father turned seventy-five, my sister and I surprised him by flying down to the North Carolina shore, where my parents lived. We bought him a kite, then flew it together on the beach. The kite was frisky and brightly colored, and we passed the string from hand to hand. Other props for air rituals include pinwheels, streamers, or bubbles. Adults should blow bubbles more often: The
New York Times
wedding column was once about a playful couple that was surrounded by family and friends blowing bubbles right after they were declared husband and wife.

Fire

Fire calls to mind everything from bonfires to the hearth at home. Fire can warm or destroy, making it apt for rituals of paradox: The phoenix arises from the ashes. The greatest ritual staple is a simple candle, which is portable fire. A candle isn’t as much a symbol of burning or purging as it is one of illumination, and the forces of light and good. Candles are also good for focus: Turn out all the lights (and shut off all screens), and look deeply into the candle flame for a family meditation session. There are many winter holiday traditions in this book centered around candles and fire, but fire can be used in more daily or weekly ways, to make dinner feel special. Have an annual fireplace dinner: Don’t forget to toast marshmallows! And if you are creating a ritual that calls for fire to purify, consider using that ancient Native American tool, a smudge stick. Some people make their own, but there are lots of online stores that sell these dried, tied bundles of grasses and herbs in various sizes. Sage is commonly used. A smudge stick is touched on the tip with fire and then the fire is blown out, leaving a smoking edge. Rituals should engage as many senses as possible, and smudge sticks tend to be quite aromatic, sort of a rustic incense.

Water

Water purifies, renews, and makes life possible, so it is suited to rituals of both baptism and cleansing. It can make a powerful statement: After a police corruption scandal in Harlem, local black leaders were seen literally scrubbing the sidewalk in front of the station with sponges and cleanser. Water can be solemn and soothing. When having a ritual near any body of water, from pond or pool on up, consider beforehand how to interact with that water: Dip a toe, splash your face, full immersion? Water can also be mischievous and playful: Think squirt guns and water balloons. One family I know had a silly ritual of dunking the father in the bathtub on Thanksgiving: It got started as a joke when he was bathing the kids before the feast one year and got very wet. Now, he and the kids put their bathing suits on, then get soaked together.

Just remember this: Start with your ritual’s purpose and let that guide you to a central ritual action. Your best chance of success is to keep it simple, and be playful. If you set a tone of having fun, of everybody having a say, then family members won’t feel awkward or too embarrassed to participate.

And please, do
not
feel you have to reinvent the wheel with your rituals. If there is any kind of remotely logical template already practiced in the world that works for you, grab it with both hands and tweak it a little to fit your family. My friend Amy Milne remembers that when she grew up, her artist father would invent variations on the old Pin the Tail on the Donkey birthday game that suited her. Like “Pin the Heart on Raggedy Ann.” And she does the same with her kids. Her son, Clark, was especially excited about playing “Pin the Light Saber on the Jedi.”

Another tip: When it comes to starting a new ritual, it’s vital to announce your plans in advance, so everybody knows what’s coming. Kids love routine, so the first time you try a new ritual, they might be wary, and adjustments may be needed before the family embraces this new tradition wholeheartedly. (And family rituals often need tweaking over the years, giving kids a bigger role as they age.)

Don’t worry about finding good ideas for new traditions. There are hundreds of them in the pages that follow. You can adopt these rituals and celebrations just as they are, or use them as the germ of a new idea.

Celebrate wherever you are right now, with whatever gifts you possess, as creatively as you possibly can. There is much talk about teaching children “life skills.” In my view, you shouldn’t just teach them manners, how to drive, how to cook, and all of that. You should also teach them how to celebrate. Food feeds the body, but ritual feeds the soul.

I’m not a Pollyanna about ritual: I don’t think it’s the only tool parents need to build a cohesive tribe, but I do think it’s a lot more powerful than most people believe, and the lessons for our children run deep.

Children raised with tradition, especially those who have watched their parents invent new rituals as occasions and milestones occur, learn that their own response to life can be active and creative and extremely personal. They’re going to be resilient children, confident they are loved and that they know how to express that love to others.

Some Lessons Learned: A Note on Humor and Letting It Rip