Banging in the New Year
Table of Contents
Every New Year’s Eve, when the clock struck midnight, my family in St. Louis turned into a traveling percussion section. Pots, pans, wooden spoons – the whole kitchen emptied as though it were fleeing a fire. My father claimed it was an old Irish custom brought over by my great-grandparents, who must have believed the cacophony chased away bad spirits.
We’d run outside clanging and shouting, the air cold enough to freeze the echo. Neighbors peeked from behind curtains as though we were the circus that missed its train. Still, we marched down the block, banging, laughing, and hollering “Happy New Year!” at anyone unfortunate enough to open their door.
At 7 years old,I thought it was glorious. Wild drumming, total mayhem, and parental approval. My grandmother banged a frying pan like it owed her money, and my grandfather led the charge, saucepan in hand.
Only years later did I realize how peculiar we must have looked: a clan of lunatics clanging cookware beneath the streetlights. But to us, it wasn’t madness; it was inheritance. Ireland had its bodhrans; we had Teflon.
The next morning,some pans would be bent,the spoons splintered,and anarchic trails left in the snow. But the year always felt properly started.some families watched the ball drop. Ours just made sure the neighborhood never forgot we existed.
– Jeffery Allen Tobin
A toast to quiet contemplation
In high school and college, New Year’s Eve meant one thing: party time. For everyone,that is,except me. While my buddies cajoled me to go out with them, my mom, who hails from Japan, encouraged – er, mandated – our family to spend the evening together in “quiet reflection.” (This is in line with how the holiday is celebrated in Japan, where it most closely resembles America’s Thanksgiving.)
On new Year’s Eve, my mom prepares gyoza, or Japanese dumplings, cooked four ways: shrimp- or pork-filled, steamed or fried. We sit around the table with a stack of dumpling skins, big bowls of the fillings, and fold and pinch, fold and pinch, until we have a mountain or two of dumplings. The past couple of years, my 6- and 9-year-old boys have started to help, too. My mom also makes toshikoshi soba, a simple but elegant noodle dish. The noodles represent a bridge from the past to the present, from the present to the future, as a new year unfolds.
Sometime around the middle of my college years, while my friends froze outside in long lines for the privilege of paying a $50 entrance fee to a sardine can, and another $30 for a beverage, if they could navigate past the throng of sweaty, shouting partygoers, I realized I had the better part of the deal, by far. Here’s to quiet reflection and tasty food.
– Zachary Przystup
A New Year’s Tradition: The 12 Grapes of Fortune
This essay by Ingrid Ahlgren beautifully illustrates how traditions, even seemingly small ones, connect us to family, heritage, and hope for the future. The author recounts a cherished New Year’s Eve ritual – eating 12 grapes at midnight, each accompanied by a wish – passed down from her grandmother, Tata. While the practice has evolved over time, the underlying desire for good fortune and connection remains strong, especially in a world that frequently enough feels in need of both.
The Origin of the 12 Grapes Tradition
The tradition of eating 12 grapes at midnight on New Year’s Eve originates in spain and several Latin American countries. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/travel/the-spanish-new-years-eve-tradition-of-eating-12-grapes-180976651/ The custom began in the late 19th century,specifically in the Valencia region of Spain,as a way to ward off bad luck and ensure prosperity for the coming year.
The tradition is linked to a surplus of grapes in 1909. To encourage consumption, grape growers promoted the idea of eating 12 grapes – one for each chime of the clock at midnight on December 31st. Each grape represents a month of the year, and making a wish with each bite is believed to bring good luck for that corresponding month.
A Family Ritual: From Tata’s Kitchen to Suburban New Jersey
Ahlgren’s story highlights the personal significance traditions hold. Her grandmother, Tata, meticulously prepared the grapes, peeling them and removing the seeds – a labor of love believed to enhance the good fortune. The act of peeling wasn’t merely practical; it was integral to the ritual, imbued with intention and care. The sticky juice and accumulating peels were part of the experience, a tactile reminder of the shared moment.
The author’s and her husband’s wishes initially reflected the playful spirit of the tradition – a less sour grape,easier peeling next year. Though, the tradition also held space for deeper hopes, like health, wealth, and world peace.
The move from Tata’s home to suburban New Jersey brought changes. The grapes were now purchased at a local supermarket, and the meticulous peeling was abandoned. Yet, the core of the tradition – the 12 grapes, the sparkling cider toast, and the wishes – endured, now shared with their daughters, ages 9 and 14.
The Enduring Power of ritual in a Changing world
Ahlgren’s contemplation about restarting the peeling process speaks to a broader desire for agency and optimism.In a world facing complex challenges, the act of deliberately preparing the grapes feels like a way to actively invite good fortune.It’s a tangible expression of hope,a small act of faith in the possibility of a better future.
The story underscores how traditions aren’t static; they evolve with us, adapting to new circumstances while retaining their essential meaning.The author’s willingness to revisit the peeling ritual isn’t about rigidly adhering to the past, but about consciously choosing to embrace a practice that brings comfort, connection, and a sense of hopeful anticipation.
key Takeaways:
* Origins: The 12 grapes tradition originated in Spain as a way to ensure good luck for the coming year.
* Personal Significance: Traditions are deeply personal and connect us to family, heritage, and hope.
* Adaptability: Traditions evolve over time, adapting to new circumstances while retaining their core meaning.
* The Power of ritual: Rituals,even small ones,can provide a sense of control and optimism in a complex world.
Worth a look