A friend posted a picture of a vintage aluminum Christmas tree on his Facebook page. The photo of that metal tree made me remember the only year we got mad at my mom.

            Growing up, we always had a real Christmas tree because that was the only option. But the year aluminum trees debuted, my mom decided to “go modern” and update Christmas.

            One Sunday before Christmas, my dad took us to church and mom stayed home. When we got back, she surprised us with an aluminum Christmas tree, complete with blue ornaments, just like she’d seen in a magazine.  

She had a big smile on her face, and I know she was shocked with the response she got from her seven children – instant rejection.

            We hated that tree, and it was the last time Mom changed a holiday tradition without checking with the troops first.

            As I look at the gifts wrapped and snuggled under our real Christmas tree, I traced back the traditions my family has for the holidays.

            I remember running into my grandparents’ house on Christmas Eve, the smells of chicken and rice and Lebanese food filling the air. Their front living room was the center of the universe, especially for the grandchildren.

            Our relatives spoiled us, and there were gifts for everybody under that tree, so much that they spilled out of the room.

            Mass always came first on Christmas Day, and I know we fidgeted more than usual, believing Father Joe had a devious plan to keep children in the pews for as long as possible instead of home playing with our new toys.

            With a sneaky pinch to our sides, our parents reminded us Jesus was the reason for the season. We’d agree, but we really wanted to believe that Jesus would’ve preferred being home, in his pajamas, playing with a new G.I. Joe.

Food plays a dominant role in our holidays – there’s ham for Easter, gumbo for Christmas Eve and black-eyed peas for New Year’s Day.

            We also made sugar cookies for Christmas, and all the cousins would gather around my parents’ kitchen counter for decorating. Out would come the vanilla frosting, food coloring and bottles filled with red and green sugar, colored dots and chocolate sprinkles.

            We’d decorate all afternoon, laughing and sharing stories about life and sampling the cookies while we decorated. In the end, very few made it intact from the cooling racks to the serving trays.

            The most memorable gifts weren’t the expensive ones. There was a year my dad got a Pocket Fisherman, and all the Christmas morning festivities came to an abrupt halt when he realized what he’d gotten. For 20 minutes, he stood at one end of the living room, practicing casting over mounds of wrapping paper and our heads.

            Then there was the year my grown brothers got dart guns, and we had to wait until they finished chasing each other all over the house, pretending they were security guards on Star Trek, to continue Christmas.

            I’m hoping to create some lasting memories for my grandchildren that will link them to their heritage. When they get here on Christmas Eve, the smells of gumbo and freshly baked sugar cookies will await them, and there’s already a hefty pile of wrapped gifts under our real tree.

            But the real gifts, the ones that last, are the memories we’ll make this year, memories to add to the ones we’ve lived over the years.

            No matter where you celebrate, I wish you and your family happy holidays and hope you create happy memories this year with the people you love.

            Merry Christmas!

 This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.