Traditions, Language and Love

“And you can tell everybody that this your song…” -Elton John

One of the most amazing aspects of family life is forming new traditions, and keeping old ones. My son Robby was born into one. His father is Robert, his grandfather is Robert, and his great-grandfather is Robert (they all have different middle names, there are no juniors here).

Traditions can provide comfort in times of distress and happiness. When I am lulling my son to sleep at night, I sing very softly into his ear:

“It’s a little bit funny this feeling inside
I’m not one of those who can easily hide
I don’t have much money, but boy if I did
I’d buy a big house where we both could live

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a travelling show
I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one’s for you

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it’s done
I hope you don’t mind
I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you’re in the world

I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well a few of the verses, well they’ve got me quite cross
But the sun’s been quite kind while I wrote this song
It’s for people like you that keep it turned on

So excuse me forgetting but these things I do
You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue
Anyway the thing is what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Your Song,” Elton John

Before my son goes to sleep at night, these are some of the last words he hears. I have a terrible singing voice, but Robby doesn’t mind.

Part of starting a family is starting new traditions. When my husband cooks (which is often), he has Robby in the kitchen “helping him out.”

Daddy and Robby making Königsberger Klopse

We’ve found that if we treat our son as a social individual who is entirely capable of interacting with his family members, he proves us right every time. We recognize that there are certain activities he is going to want to turn to absolutely every day: watching Schnappi, bouncing and kicking balls, jumping in his “baby command center,” reading books in both German and English, trying to crawl on his tummy time playmat (he doesn’t spend much time on his tummy these days), eating some “big boy food,” being gently lulled to sleep (and many more). These are his traditions, and they’re changing every day. We keep trying to give him the foundation of the things he’s come to expect, while building more to accomodate his rapid growth. When you think about it, humanity in general is built upon traditions, and without them our society would crumble. The many languages that all of our nations speak is a tradition passed down from parent to child. I guess sometimes we like to tease the French that their language is the most important thing to them, but really, that makes sense. Language comes to define us. Depending on what career path we choose, we use different languages. My brother, who is studying to become a doctor, certainly knows science-speak that I never will. He speaks that language because it’s part of what makes him T.J. (that’s his name). When my bestfriend, Kirsten, was on the newspaper with me in high school, she wanted to start her own section called *Perspicacity. A lot of the kids in the class (who were probably intimidated because they did not know what the word meant) thought that was pretentious of her. She didn’t see it that way because she grew up in book-rich environment where words like that were part of the dialogue. The classmates were alienated because Kirsten was speaking a different language.

Sometimes language can be transitory. My sister Beth, who is about to go away to college, says things like “probs m’gobs” (probably) and “tots m’goats,” (totally) and right now, that is marking her as a senior in high school who, among may other things, is very involved with the theatre group at her school. When she goes off to college, I imagine much of that language will be stripped away, only to surface momentarily when she visits the people in her high school that she left behind.

Sometimes, language comes back around. To use another example from my sister, she’s gotten into the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series(vampires are back in, who knew?), a show I watched constantly when I was her age. She references something obscure from Whedon-verse, and I pick it up. This is a silly example, but still it applies. So we started a tradition of watching the show together, and the age gap becomes a bit smaller for a little while, because language can unite opposing parties (which we typically are).

Of course, language and tradition don’t always go hand in hand. Religion shows great examples of this. The Catholic church used to be held in a language the majority of the congregation did not understand, and yet the audience was large. Say what you want about the Catholic church, but they make good use of symbols, and they used their symbol language to communicate to their congregants.

the sunflower is starting to get its petals

Symbols can be extremely powerful representations of a range of abstract thoughts, ideas and beliefs. At our wedding, we had sunflowers everywhere. 2 months after Robby was born, we planted a sunflower seed, painted a flower-pot with a sunflower on it, and marked the brown center of the flower with Robby’s hand print. Since then, it’s been Robby’s “pet plant.” Since Robert and I love gardening, this is another way we involve Robby in our day-to-day activities. We take him outside and show him how his plant is doing. We tell him that he used to be smaller than the seed the plant started out as, but I don’t think he believes us. The sunflower is growing with our family, and therefore has been a powerful symbol representing our growth.

So, it would seem, some symbols can be relegated to just an intimate group, and some are widespread, like stop signs, or the cross. I grew up in the Catholic church, in fact, I went to a Catholic grade school. When I went back to that same church for my wedding, and then for Robby’s baptism, it wasn’t the Bible verses that brought me back to my childhood (though I am extremely familiar with them, especially since I was a religious studies major in college). The smell of the incense, the sprinkling of the holy water, and the sound of the organ playing those familiar hymns, all brought me back to where I once was. That’s tradition’s role too, reminding you where you came from.

From left to right: Kirsten (Robby's Godmother), Robert, Robby, Me, and TJ (Robby's Godfather). Robby wasn't too happy about wearing the dress, but his great, great, great grandmother made it, and it has been passed down from parent to eldest child ever since. He was the first boy to wear it, so I guess that's the cross-dressing side of tradition.

Maybe there is something to this sensory aspect of tradition. Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays, but I don’t celebrate it because of the pilgrims. The way the turkey smells, remembering the first time I went for a glass of milk after eating cranberries (yuck!), my aunts and grandma in the kitchen, my uncles and grandpa watching tv, and kids running around everywhere, that’s Thanksgiving. And it has nothing to do with language.

Some of the best traditions are rooted in who knows what. You don’t know when or how they came to be, but they just are. When my mom was a little girl, my grandpa dramatically recited the “Jabberwocky” poem to her. When I was little, he did the same with me. Now Robby is little, and he receives the same treatment…

again and again…

(excuse my crazy ramblings)

and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Just some questions to think about:

• What traditions have become central in your life?
• What language do you speak?

*perspicacity: the acuteness of perception

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