When Christmas traditions aren't there ...

(I may have blogged about this previous Christmas before, but I'm not in the mood to look and see if I did. Stories are allowed to be retold ...)

When Lori and I moved to Madison in 1995, it was the farthest I had lived from Chicago in my life. While in Milwaukee, I made it home for Christmas every year. My first two years at Marquette, I lived in the dorms, which closed for the break anyway, but after that the trip back was a bus or train ride or a 90-minute drive. 

Madison not only added an extra hour to the trip (without any easy alternate transportation options), but also a funky work schedule. Although I worked for an afternoon newspaper, on holidays, we were a morning paper and had to produce the section the night before. With a small staff, if I worked Christmas Eve night, we couldn't leave for Chicago until the morning. Then, I would need to be back for the early-morning shift on Dec. 26.

In 1995, that was the case -- I worked really late on Christmas Eve (Lori and I exchanged presents before work), woke up early on Christmas morning, drove to Chicago, saw everybody, and got back home to Madison by 11 p.m. It was a hit-and-run visit, but at least I spent it with my family again.

In 1996, fate didn't cooperate.

We had two cars at the time -- my old Civic that we stopped taking on the highway (and definitely stopped taking on long trips) and a 1985 Celica my grandparents gave me the year before. It only had 75,000 miles when we got it, but we put 23,000 miles on it in 14 months. The bottom was rusted out, and we already sank several hundred dollars in repairs into it. The engine had been noisy all through December, including a trip to Stevens Point the weekend before Christmas.

On Christmas Eve, I worked the morning shift to get that afternoon's paper out. Two coworkers would handle the evening shirt, and Lori and I planned to drive to Chicago that night, then return the following evening. The editor of the paper brought in his traditional holiday gift for the staff -- a giant wheel of Swiss cheese. The sports section was easy to crank out, and I headed home around noon to wait for Lori to get home from work, after which we would head to Chicago.

Driving back from work, the rattling in the engine became worse, and the Celica wasn't running well. I drove straight to a mechanic that had been previously recommended to us. He started the car and a grimace came across his face. He identified the rattling as a piston that had came loose in the engine and was wreaking havoc. The engine was toast, and on a 10-year old car that was already falling apart, a new engine would have cost more than the car was worth.

I'm not sure why we didn't try renting a car to go back -- perhaps it was too late to find something last-minute. Lori wasn't getting home from work until mid-afternoon, and our options were limited. We didn't want to risk a long drive in the Civic, particularly if a snowstorm swept through on Christmas. Lori helped me face the situation: We weren't going to Chicago for the holiday.

I was bummed out. Talking to my grandfather, who tried to convince me the car was otherwise fine and I should just get a new engine, didn't help (I am mostly sure he blamed us for breaking the car he gave us, and it wasn't the first vehicle he passed along that didn't survive for long). Lori said we had better get to the grocery store to get food for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day meals. I wandered through Woodman's in a kind of daze -- it didn't seem real. I was sad because it wouldn't feel like the Christmas I had been used to for 26 years. 

That night, Lori went to bed but I didn't want to sleep. But I didn't want to watch anything holiday-related and ended up watching "Pure Luck" with Martin Short and Danny Glover (yeah, it sucked). I don't recall much else of the holiday -- just that we were stuck in Madison.

But something else happened that Christmas -- Lori spent our first Christmas just us. The next year, we made it back to Chicago despite a snowstorm (two extra hours to get to Lombard). In 1998, I had to work Christmas Eve night, and Lori and I decided, why not just stay in Madison and not deal with a hit-and-run visit? And it was a great Christmas for us. We could actually plan our holiday this time, and we saw "Shakespeare in Love" on Christmas night (movies on Christmas are actually kind of fun). 

In 1999, we spent a long weekend with my family -- and that was the last year I would see them for Christmas. We moved to Utah in 2000, and flying back never made sense. Work never permitted it, airfare was expensive for a short trip, and, honestly, we weren't in a rush to return to the Midwest in the middle of winter. One tradition ended, but we started some of our own, now 21 years running.

Trains from a previous year

But in 1996, a busted car interfered with the tradition. I was thinking of that tonight, Christmas Eve 2021. Ben and I went out to look at holiday lights, and the first place he wanted to see was a house in Sugar House that every year has a big model train setup in the front yard. Although we haven't seen this every year, it has been a tradition since the boys were toddlers. The constant round trips of the three trains (it is such a cool setup) is almost cathartic and hypnotic. Plus, the boys loved it.

We drove by the house on Bryan Avenue to find ... the homeowner didn't set up the trains this year. The guy is nice (we always have a little conversation every time we visit the display, and I thank him for doing this every year), but maybe he moved, experiencing technical problems, or just too busy. Perhaps last week's snowstorm caused him to break it down. Whatever the case, we drove off disappointed.

As much as traditions are comforting, there are no guarantees. That's even more evident as the boys get older. Instead, you adapt. Ben and I enjoyed looking at other lights and listening to alternative Christmas music (we recommend "The Season's Upon Us" by the Dropkick Murphys and "Wonderful Christmastime" by the Shins). Christmas Eve was nice, and I'm looking forward to a nice Christmas with Lori and the boys -- whatever tomorrow brings.