By Rob Holbert Managing Editor

Tradition is so important, especially around the holidays. Without tradition, how would we know who says grace, who “plays Santa” or who bails Uncle Rex out of jail on Christmas Eve?

That’s why I was relieved to discover recently that the tradition of being frightened by the Abominable Snowmonster is alive and well in my family. I’m guessing it’s a tradition and not just the passing of “wuss” genes from one generation to the next. Yeah, we’ll go with tradition.

It’s funny how as parents of small children, my wife and I go running back to the Christmas traditions of our own childhood. That’s how my almost 3-year-old son Ulysses and I ended up watching “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” the other night. My wife made sure to remind me the kids needed to see it, then headed out the door to shop. Frankly, I hadn’t watched the hokey ‘60s stop-motion animated special in so long, I didn’t really remember the story. I kind of thought the Heat Miser and Cold Miser might have been part of the show. How stupid.

Not long after the creepy Burl Ives snowman started narrating, I recalled most of the story, especially the Snowmonster. I immediately pictured myself running back and forth all night while Ulysses screamed about the monster coming to get him. But we watched anyway.

For those not familiar with this classic special, Rudolph and his freaky-deaky pals — prospector Yukon Cornelius and Hermey the Elf — head off into the vast wasteland of the great, white north on some unspecified trek. They hang out on the Island of Misfit Toys, jam with the Rolling Stones and drop acid with Jack Kerouac. They are also chased around by the Snowmonster, who bellows like a buffalo giving birth and has long, triangular teeth and big google eyes. About halfway through the show, Ulysses started screaming for me to turn it off.

His reaction took me right back to my childhood when the same herky-jerky monster scared the pee out of me in the nights leading up to Christmas. It also made me wonder what the heck those animators were thinking when they made that stupid show. All those ‘60s animated Christmas shows feature evil characters who scare children stiff. Given the times in which it was made, I suppose we’re just lucky Rudolph and the Snowmonster weren’t smoking Lucky Strikes.

Just the fact that “Rudolph” is still aired every year shows how people value their Christmas traditions, no matter how strange they are. “Rudolph” certainly isn’t being shown because of its sterling animation, solid storyline or classic songs. Ulysses even commented on all the singing and seemed unimpressed by the lame songs, and that’s coming from someone who grooves on Barney tunes. No, people watch “Rudolph,” “The Year Without a Santa Claus,” “Frosty the Snowman” and all those other goofy Christmas specials because they’re part of the tradition.

Who knows, there’s probably some pathetic family somewhere that watches the “Who’s the Boss” Christmas special every year. It doesn’t really matter what the traditions are, just as long as you have them.

Since our children are so young, my wife and I are in the midst of developing our own Christmas traditions. For the past two years, we haven’t really done much, since neither Ulysses or Ursula were old enough to understand anything about Christmas. But they’ve been pumping Ulysses’ head full of Christmas lore at daycare since about three weeks before Halloween, so he’s jacked up like a truck driver on a cross-country haul. About three times a day he reminds me Santa Claus is coming. And I remind him three times a day that Santa doesn’t visit little boys who (take your pick here) don’t eat their supper, hit their sisters, punch the dogs, splash all the water out of the bathtub or kick their daddies in the nose while they’re sitting on the couch minding their own business. (Especially the last one.)

In doing that, I’ve unwittingly carried on a tradition from my own childhood, when my father was always threatening that Santa either wouldn’t show up because of our terrible behavior, or, worse, that he would do something TO Santa when he did show.

My father’s most common threat was that he might shoot Santa or his reindeer, a threat that seemed real enough to me, because I knew he had a 12-gague shotgun in his closet. I also knew he liked to hunt occasionally. Free deer on the rooftop often seemed like it might prove too tempting, and Santa is a bit like a prowler, so I figured it’s probably perfectly legal to shoot him.

I’ve come to realize the awesome power of setting Christmas traditions. Whatever insane things I cook up could easily be passed down to my grandkids and greatgrands. It’s very tempting to come up with something really bizarre.

So when Ulysses and Ursula wake up on Christmas morning, they’ll be quickly dressed in Hawaiian print clothing, then ushered out into the living room to gather around a fake tree decorated with Krispy Kreme doughnuts — mostly glazed, and no jelly-filled. We’ll open presents, eat a giant, super-dense block of fruitcake and then settle down to watch “Bad Santa.”

I’ll be so proud in 30 years or so if my grandkids are enjoying some of these new traditions and crying their little eyes out worrying that the Snowmonster is coming to get them.

Rob Holbert is Lagniappe managing editor. Contact him at rholbert@lagniappemobile.com.

Archives