In Fiddler on the Roof, they sing, "The Papa, the Papa! Tradition. The Mama, the Mama! Tradition!" In our family, we shout this beloved song whenever we use the word "tradition." Unlike Tevye and Golde, our family does not have a milk cow, four daughters, or a matchmaker. And, unlike, the community of Anatevka, we do not keep tradition because we are scared of change. We keep traditions because they unite us despite our vast differences.
There are four generations of us now; from Great Grands to Great Babies. Our traditions tie our family together. We keep our traditions because it gives us reason for family. To go somewhere to be together. To send a loving neener-neener. To eat ridiculous amounts of foods. To watch movies over and over and over (Juno, A Christmas Story, O Brother Where Art Thou). We keep traditions, because, in the routine of living, it causes us to pause and cherish the memory and the moment. We miss those Dear Ones who are gone. We prepare for the arrival of new Little Ones. We eat. We laugh. We eat more. We cherish each other. Mazel tov.
Our family has claimed many "cabin in the woods" places as our escape from the norm. -Arcadia, Easton, EagleCrest, Mesa- We like our vacation time. This past weekend, pieces of our huge family gathered in the Cascades for our traditional Martin Luther King Jr weekend adventure. One Dear Uncle has us up to play in the snow at his cabin in Easton, Washington. It's tradition.
As the family photo-journalist, I rode on the back of Dad's snowmobile to photograph hours of riding. Dad could run chauffeur business in anything- river guiding, clam digging, best scenic views in the Pacific Northwest, etc.. He is so patient with my frequent stops for pictures. Of course I set down the camera several times to race on the flats myself.
Here is a tid bit of a ride with Dad and Cousin Melinda. Just to leave you hanging as I work on the full photo blog of the weekend.