Traditions

“Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire.” - Gustav Mahler A bazillion magnets form a patchwork quilt on both sides of our refrigerator. Collecting magnets has been an inexpensive way of chronicling our adventures – a tradition we started years ago.

Not everyone appreciates this tradition. In fact, there are sophisticates who don’t think well of magnets on a refrigerator. These plain-spoken folks have been overheard using terms like “tacky” and “tasteless.” But in reality, magnets are the lesser evil. Snow globes and/or shot glasses are the real infractions of the law.

Prominently displayed at eye level, is one of my favorite magnets, a pink flying pig with white wings. For over twenty-five years, she has been affectionately known as “Hark the Herald Piglet Sings.” If you listen close enough, you might hear the high brassy notes from the trumpet she is blowing. She continues to warm my heart and bring a smile to my face every time I look at her. Unlike the other seasonal frippery, she never gets packed away.

There’s a magnet – a gift from Bon Appetit– of measurement equivalents for those senescent moments when I need a quick reference on teaspoons to tablespoons and tablespoons to whatever comes next. I always know where this helpful resource is located. I have referenced it at least a gazillion times.

A Lone Star flag is prominently displayed next to three magnets that read “mercy,” “faith,” and “happiness.” The “faith” magnet is upside down. I have no idea when or how this happened, but I do know that faith without works is dead. Perhaps that is why that magnet is reclining – a little reminder of this gospel cornerstone.

The magnet that caught my attention several days ago was one we purchased in Galveston at the Grand 1894 Opera House. We were there to see the play, A Tuna Christmas. The plot of A Tuna Christmas centers around a mysterious “Christmas Phantom” vandalizing the yard displays amidst the town’s annual Christmas Yard Display Contest. With twenty-two eccentric characters, dozens of costume changes, and just two actors – Jaston Williams and Joe Sears – this play is a satirical look inside the workings of Tuna, Texas, the “third smallest” town in the state.

The magnet is a red cowboy boot-stocking. Two of the play’s characters peer over the top of the white fur cuff: Vera Carp, town snob and acting leader of the Smut-Snatchers of the New Order (“until the Reverend Spikes gets out of prison”) and Bertha Bulmiller, a high-principled member of the Smut Snatchers (“ Censorship is as American as apple pie, so shut up!”).

Attending A Tuna Christmas was a Christmas tradition, a tradition that brought laughter to us, as well as the dozens of friends we introduced to the play over the years. I’m not sure who enjoyed the play more: us or the newbies. It warmed our hearts to look over and see our guests dissolve into laughter when Didi Snavely, owner of Didi’s Used Weapons, broadcast from a local radio station, “If we can’t kill it, it’s immortal.” Or when Bertha confessed in an instant of self-pity, “Oh Didi, it’s so hard to hold up when the entire town knows my husband is as useless as an ice tray in hell.”

Our yearly pilgrimage to Galveston added to the rhythm and seasonality of the holidays and created many memories. We occasionally hear from old friends, especially around the holidays, that remind us of their introduction to A Tuna Christmas. We take great delight in knowing we were able to share our tradition, our preservation of fire, with them.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a prosperous New Year.