We spent eight really fun years in Louisiana (2000-2008). It’s a pretty unique place. The people there know how to enjoy life. Every time I turned around, there was a school holiday for something-and an extra spring break for Mardi Gras. Louisianians have the work/play balance figured out better than the rest of us.
Every year as Christmas Eve approaches, I get nostalgic for our Louisiana Christmas Eve tradition-driving out to the sticks (Gramercy, Louisiana) and watching the Christmas Eve bonfires. Legend has it that the families who lived on the river (my kids called it “The Migh-ty Mississipp'” because that’s what my dad called it when he came to visit and drove them up and down the levee in Baton Rouge) had to build bonfires to light the way for Père Noël.
I heard about this tradition after we’d been there a few years. I asked some friends how it worked, but didn’t find anyone who had actually been there, so we really had no idea what to expect. We started the festivities by reading the Christmas story from Luke 2 and then packed the kids into the car to go see the bonfires. We listened to our favorite Christmas CDs during the 45-minute drive. We parked a couple blocks away from the levee, bundled the kids up so they could survive the frigid 53 degree temperatures and stuffed Stuart into the stroller. There were families having big parties (of course-this was Louisiana, after all!) out in their driveways. More than one stranger hollered to invite us to join them for some jambalaya!
We hiked up to the levee. As far as the eye could see, there were big bonfires built about every 50 feet or so. We learned that families, neighbors, and offices get together to build them. The volunteer fire department builds a really cool one. One year they built a big log cabin-complete with all sorts of intricate details! Another year, a boat. Another, an RV.
At 8:00, everyone lit their bonfires. It was magical. We stood around and watched the bonfires burn for a while and then headed back to the car. Once the kids got in, I gave each of them a gift-wrapped box of pajamas. They were still little then, so no one was embarrassed to change into the PJs in the dark car. We got everyone all bundled up again in their new Christmas Eve PJs and headed home. Everyone fell asleep on the way home and Brent tucked them into bed, bringing them a sippy cup of water and kissing them on their foreheads as he has done (and continues to do-even though Kennedy is almost 15 years old) every night.
After that first time, we were hooked. We took some friends with us one year who came this close to spoiling the magic. The wife was a stuffy-ish woman from back East who kept grousing about how it wasn’t safe (and indeed, it is very unsafe-no one worries about kids stumbling into the fires or the fact that intoxicated people are lighting firecrackers and throwing them into the bonfires . . . one year the wood was wet, so the volunteer firefighters hauled huge barrels of gas up to the levee and poured gas all over the place until the wood caught fire). She made a few snide remarks about “southerners” which just about put me in a tizzy, but even she couldn’t ruin the magic of the whole experience-safety be damned.
Our first Christmas Eve back in Texas was a sad one. The move had been hard on all of us for different reasons. We considered driving back there on Christmas Eve (288 miles one way) just to see the bonfires, but reason prevailed. We also considered trying to duplicate it and doing our own bonfire here, but we knew that it would be a cheap substitute compared to the real deal, so we decided to just skip it.
This marks our fourth Christmas Eve in Texas and I still feel sad to be missing out on the bonfires. I like thinking about all those kids way back when, lighting a bonfire to light the way for Père Noël (and I don’t even care if that’s just a myth and therefore not really “true”). Our family knows it’s true.
Does your family have any quirky, unique Christmas traditions that only worked because of just the right people or because you lived in a particular place? And have you ever tried re-creating a tradition in a different place, or at a different time, or with different people? I’ve not had any luck with that. Is it worth trying to re-create those activities or moments, or is it best to just savor the memories?
Often my kids have read or heard of traditions from other cultures and wanted to give them a try. We’ve put out shoes for St. Nick or for wise men, but we haven’t had a Menorah or worn wreaths of candles in our hair (I’m a bit phobic about candles I guess). I love the idea of bonfires because it hearkens back to the most ancient of traditions – the return of the sun.
This is so cool! My parents lived in Louisiana for a number of years, but I don’t think they ever did this (although I still dream of the food — the crayfish, shrimp and jambalaya).
This is something I worry about. I have such happy memories of family traditions, usually small things we did each year and I worry that my husband and I are too haphazard in creating them for our own family. We always have Mexican food on Christmas Eve. It is a family tradition that my husband grew up with that we keep. I miss the music of the Christmas Eves of my childhood. I loved everyone playing and singing together. I’ve tried to do that with the children, but it doesn’t feel the same.
Heidi–it worries me as well! Have you read Pipher’s book The Shelter of Each Other? She talks about the importance of creating these traditions. It’s been a while since I read it, but I remember feeling hopeful/encouraged by what she said–not guilty/discouraged.
One of my favorite family traditions growing up involved chocolate and the cemetery. My uncle died suddenly in 1974, leaving a wife and 4 children under the age of 8. His wife’s sister (another aunt) couldn’t bear not to have a gift for him under the tree. We always got together as a family for about a week in Florida with all the cousins for Christmas and everybody got a gift for everybody else and sometimes it took 4 hours to open them all – I loved that part too! So, this aunt from SLC bought a big box of Mrs. Cavanaugh’s chocolates and put my uncle’s name on it. It was the last gift we opened and after all the present opening and Christmas dinner, we took a piece to the cemetery and put it on his grave. Every year after that there has been a box of Mrs. Cavanaugh’s under the tree, usually with the names of those who have passed on. It’s the last gift opened. For years we made this trip to the cemetery, until we didn’t spend Christmas near the graves in Florida anymore. We have pictures of us all there and it actually seemed to make it more meaningful as my grandparents passed on and their graves were added to the family plot.
This year no one is coming south from Utah, so I bought Lindt Lindor truffles. It won’t be quite the same, but we must have chocolate. We’ll think of my mom, who passed away in April.