Holiday traditions are important because they give us a sense of meaning and a remarkable reminder of where we came from.
(from holidayroadusa.com).
Just look at the Griswold’s … what would a good, old-fashioned family Christmas be without cutting down an enormous pine tree in the middle of nowhere (a little full, lots of sap)?!
The Community News Brief asked its staff and other area journalists to share their favorite holiday traditions and memories.
Those who responded to our request are included below.
Season’s greetings and here’s to a wonderful 2026!
Sleigh Tracks & Hoofprints: Gina Anderson, Writer, Community News Brief Christmas Eves were special at my grandparents’ ranch-style house on the hill. The tree was decorated with strands of large, brightly colored glass bulbs, clumps of stringy silver tinsel and a variety of ornaments. Before dinner, my brother and I decorated our fingertips with black olives and made “fancy” hors d’oeuvres by artistically arranging ribbons of canned cheese on Ritz crackers.
After eating dinner on Grandma’s special dishes and drinking milk from her dark green goblets, which usually rested in a corner China cabinet, my brother and I went to the kitchen with Mom, Grandma and Great-Grandma. Dad and Grandpa went to the living room at the other end of the house. Although cleaning up was necessary, it was a ruse for something more fun. Suddenly, we heard thunderous knocking on the door. It was our signal to run! Mom and Grandma ushered us into a bedroom, where little children should be sleeping lest Santa bypass the house. Our hearts pounded as we heard my dad enthusiastically greet Santa, followed by a hearty “Ho ho ho!” in response. We heard loud footsteps and crinkling wrapping paper as the movement at the far end of the house seemed to last forever. Finally, Dad said goodbye to the man in the red suit. As soon as Grandma opened the bedroom door, we raced down the hallway to find our presents under the tree.
One snowy Christmas Eve, we discovered sleigh tracks and hoofprints in the yard.
And on an extra special night nearly 55 years ago, Santa himself, along with an elf, sat in Grandpa’s chair when we burst into the living room. I don’t remember when those magical evenings ended, but they remain in my heart as reminder of parents and grandparents, now gone, who loved us very much..
The Proof is in the Hoofprints: Arlen Britton, Sports Writer, Community News Brief Growing up in Blandinsville was a wonderful memory in itself. One thing about Christmas when my brother and I were young is the memory of our dad going outside during the night (if there was snow) and drawing lines and making ‘hoofprints’ in the yard. Our parents would then show us when we woke up that Santa had been there and had to ‘park his sleigh’ to bring in our presents. Of course, the milk and cookies we left for him were partially devoured as well! These were memories I performed many years later when our son was little to show him that Santa had indeed paid us a visit over night! Participating in church Christmas programs and attending Christmas Eve services (when possible) were important parts of our traditional celebrations to remember the true meaning of Christmas.
The Smells of Christmas: Lisa Miller, Office Manager, Community News Brief & Community Market I have so many wonderful Christmas memories, and yet, the most vivid are those that were not about one specific Christmas gift or one Christmas day but are moments that were more like traditions that I looked forward to every year. When I was a child, like any child, Christmas was the best time of year. My mom would get up in the attic and get down all the Christmas decorations and I remember the wonderful smells that Christmas brought, the smell of cinnamon and pine, we always had a real tree.
We had wooden ornaments that my mom painted (and I still have some of those ornaments on my tree).
They were so beautiful to me when I was small, and I remember looking through all of them trying to pick out which one was my favorite.
So many of those decorations were magical when I was a kid, the candy garland for the tree, a ceramic Santa’s boot that had a music box and would play music and maybe one of my most favorite was a Christmas candle that smelled like “Christmas” To this day I am not exactly sure what that smell is, but she still has that candle and it smells the same as it did when I was little…”Christmas.”
My grandmother’s Christmas was what me and my cousins looked forward to every year. What started as a small family Christmas has now turned into a crowd of close to 50. For me it wasn’t even about the presents, it was getting to see my cousins and the fun we would have when we all got together. Every year my grandmother made a handmade pinata full of toys and candy and believe me that thing was tough. It had to be to get through seven of us grandkids before it broke, and once it did, we all raced as fast as we could, sliding across the basement floor to get all the stuff inside.
Now that tradition has been passed down to the great and great-great grandkids as we watch all of them with the same excitement.
Pass the Pickled Herring, Please: Jane Carlson, reporter, Tri States Public Radio I’m Swedish on both sides, and nowhere was that heritage more visible than at Christmastime. When I was a kid, Christmas Eve at Grandma Hester’s meant creamed cod, lutefisk and pickled herring served alongside the usual ham and mashed potatoes. After dinner, some of the adults would eat bowls of fruktsoppa — a thick, sweet soup studded with simmered dried fruit and cinnamon sticks. But I was obsessed with the ostkaka, a custardy delight made by curdling milk with rennet.
Christmas Day at Grandma Louise’s brought its own set of Swedish staples: delicate spritz cookies, homemade potato bologna (still my favorite), more pickled herring and slices of Bond-Ost cheese with caraway seeds.
Immigrant traditions fade, and new generations build their own holiday rituals. But I’m proud that my family has held onto a lot of Swedish culinary lore.
We still have pickled herring and Bond-Ost cheese at every holiday gathering.
We make our own potato bologna and rye bread. I try to make spritz cookies — though they are nowhere near as good as Grandma Louise’s.
There are still enough Swedes where I grew up that my mom puts on a full smorgasbord at church every December, so that everyone in the community can have a taste of the old world. It may not be an exact duplicate of the holiday tables of our Swedish ancestors, but in those familiar tastes, their stories still linger.
A Very Griswold Christmas: Brie Coder, Writer, Community News Brief The spirit of the Griswold family lives vicariously through my family. Some of my fondest memories this time of year are of my poor father, whose hip has taken endless punishment after years as a former athlete, an endless bartender, a college student and a drink-til-youdrop dancer at The Regulator, hanging up Christmas lights outside. I sat at the bay window watching him.
All of a sudden, I couldn’t see my dad—he had fallen while putting up the lights, all because his hip gave out. My mom and I had an explosive laughing session at my dad’s expense. Sorry, Daddio!
Another favorite memory of mine occurred when I was in grade school.
My dad took me to Ripp Park, a fun place to hang out in Waunakee, WI, in the wintertime. It was known for its steep hill.
Anyway, like Clark Griswold, I flew down the hill on my sled. I exceeded most scientific velocities so much that my little boot flew off my foot. To this day, it still hasn’t been found. In our family, we know it’s the holiday season when the smell of fantasy fudge permeates the house. My maternal great-grandmother started the tradition, and it has been an all-time favorite since.
A Special Holiday Homecoming: Cheryl Douglas, Writer, Community News Brief The Christmas of 1997 was special for the extended Douglas Family as we welcomed two little brothers from the other side of the world to our dinner table. Alexei and Yuri were adopted by me from a Children’s Home in Rybinsk, Russia. They were seven and five years old, respectively. We arrived back in the United States on Nov. 2.
To say I remember specific toys and gifts, I really don’t.
What I do remember is the overwhelming shock on the part of the boys at the sheer volume of Christmas gifts. Their Christmas presents in Russia consisted of a chocolate candy bar and a trip to the movie theater, which was closed normally on Christmas, but the kind theater owner let the Children’s Home see a kids’ movie on this day. I have often wondered how American children would react if we handed them a chocolate bar on Christmas morning. Another change my boys had to adapt to was Santa Claus, as their Santa Claus, or “Father Frost,” wore a blue coat.
And their Christmas was celebrated Jan. 7.
Alexei and Yuri are both grown and have boys of their own. Alexei has Miles, and Yuri has Jack and Archie. The Christmas of 1997 and the arrival of two little boys from the other side of the world changed many lives forever.
Read upcoming issues for more Holiday memories and family traditions.
