I Thought I Could Ditch This Family Tradition — But It Didn't Go As Expected
If I close my eyes tight enough, I can almost taste my Great Aunt Edie’s thick, decadently creamy mashed potatoes. I always piled them high next to her out-of-this-world mushroom barley and perfect brisket.
Those foods, among other staples, were the cornerstone of my family’s Rosh Hashanah celebration, which my Aunt Edie always hosted in her Long island home. My parents, siblings, and I would make the two-hour drive from Connecticut and load into her house where scores of cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents mingled from two sides of a very large family.
Her Rosh Hashanah menu never changed, and no matter how hard me or my mom tried, we could never re-create her signature recipes. Only on this day once a year could we feast on her foods and reconnect.
It’s been about seven or eight years since we last gathered at Edie’s house. In later years, the holiday became too much for her, and eventually, the cousins all grew up, moved away, and started new families. Before I knew it, our big Rosh Hashanah celebrations were a sliver of what they once looked like.
Now, since I relocated to Southern California, it’s most often just me and my husband, our two children, and my parents. But last year, my parents told me they were traveling to Florida for the holiday to visit my brother and his kids. Because I had given birth to a second baby only a few months prior, my husband and I decided to pass on the cross-country trip.
To make the holiday feel special, we booked a getaway to the world-famous Hotel Del Coronado on Coronado Island off of San Diego. I had always wanted to check into the hotel, and thought traveling could be a new tradition to mark the start of the Jewish New Year.
It was lovely. My toddler splashed happily in the pool as my newborn napped on my chest. We roasted s’mores on the beach and danced to music in the hotel’s beautiful courtyard after dinner.
But one thing was missing: the feeling of the holiday itself.
Celebrating Rosh Hashanah on vacation made me realize how much I missed being home, together, and honoring tradition. While I enjoyed our trip, I decided that next year, and every year after that, we’d celebrate at home as a family, even if it was just the four of us.
Being physically at home, eating a special meal, and taking a moment to honor the occasion makes me feel more connected to my childhood, heritage, and religion. That’s something I now want to share with my children, even if they don’t have as many cousins or extended family around as I once did.
This year, there are a few things I plan to do. We’ll invite friends over and read books about the holidays — we are very happy subscribers to the free monthly Jewish book subscription from PJ Library, and recommend it to anyone who wants to teach their kids about Jewish holidays in a low-pressure way.
I’ll also put out special family heirlooms, like the lion figurines my grandparents collected, two of which I’m lucky enough to have. And I’ll cook.
This summer, we lost Aunt Edie. When she passed, it felt like a giant part of my childhood departed, too. Memories of Rosh Hashanah and her food came flooding back, and I wished more than ever I could be back around her dining table this year. I can’t, but I can create new traditions at home like the ones she started. I want my kids to know what it means to welcome the new year, and where they come from.
So I’ll try my hand at mashed potatoes and barley. They won’t be as good as Aunt Edie’s, but I’ll be at home, in my kitchen, making them this year and every year. And maybe one day, years from now, my kids will make them every Rosh Hashanah, too.
Further Reading
We Tested (and Rated!) All the Sofas at Ashley — Here Are the Best to Suit Your Style and Space
I Just Discovered the Smartest Way to Store Paper Towels in Your Kitchen (It’s a Game-Changer!)
