Holiday traditions are an obvious thing to include in a written family history. I suggest also including stories from when the tradition looked a little different:

For the legendary Sanderfoot round-robins, the whole Sanderfoot clan would travel to each of the siblings’ houses to see everyone’s Christmas trees and decorations a few days after Christmas. The party got progressively more raucous at each house and with every year until the infamous “beach party.” That year, Ron and Faye were scheduled to be the last house (the sixth). Unbeknownst to them, the fifth house was skipped—everyone went to their house from the fourth house. By the time Ron and Faye were informed and got to their house, everybody else was having a full-blown luau! People were wearing beach attire, blaring Carribbean music, and, best of all, enjoying the two feet of sand dumped into their garage. Grandpa was wearing a Spuds MacKenzie t-shirt and dipping his toes in a water-filled pool. Cyndi doesn’t know how long it took to clean the last of the sand tracked through the house, but the “aloha” sign hung in Ron and Faye’s garage for years!

Dear Lord, please let my children be fun like my aunts and uncles were. Let them know the joy of an absurd, over-the-top, and well-planned prank. But if it’s very messy, please let them do it after they move out of my house.

I was 21 years old, meeting my then-boyfriend’s parents for the first time. The four of us were having a lovely dinner of steak and new potatoes at the gorgeous rural homestead that had been in their family for nearly two centuries. They were gracious and kind, if a bit more formal than my own family. I thought I was doing well. But suddenly, I felt with my foot a small, squishy lump under my chair. I must have dropped a potato! I am such an idiot. No problem, I’ll just nudge it over with my toe and stealthily lean down to pick it up with my napkin so I can slip it back onto my plate . . .

I couldn’t stifle a scream when I realized it wasn’t a potato. “Oh wow,” my then-boyfriend said. “Our cat must have brought you a freshly killed mouse as a present. Why did you pick it up?”

After a long, sad year-and-change with no live music, I got to go to a concert recently! Ani DiFranco and Indigo Girls took me right back to my twenties and made me almost nostalgic for disastrous dates, wild nights out with my friends, and late weekend brunches. Music is a huge part of many of our stories. What was playing when you were moving into your first apartment? When you fell in love? When your mom drove you around in a big old station wagon smashed together with your sisters and no seat belts? (HELEN REDDY - I AM WOMAN.)