Celebrations
When it was nearing the end of December, my mother and father started making plans with my cousins for New Year’s Eve. They were a bit more serious about it than we were. My dad was only into it as an excuse to take time off work. We drove to York, Pennsylvania for the celebration on December 31st just to spend the night, or the day before, and my aunt Andi would usually cook for us. After dinner, I played with my cousin Hannah and talked about the holiday. I wasn’t sure how the ball dropped or why, but I was excited. Would it explode when it hit the ground? What if people were standing on it? Why on Earth do they drop the ball if they need another one next year? I didn’t dare asking any of these questions, as I didn’t want to seem ignorant. My big sisters bet me that I couldn’t stay up until midnight, but I knew I would prove them wrong. If there was anything I could do, it would be keeping the ability to stay awake; I wasn’t much of a sleeper. At about eleven, my aunt served snacks, which included chips with dip made from onion soup mix. It seemed as though people did everything possible with onion soup mix except, naturally, make onion soup. Dad and my uncle Jon announced that they would be making milkshakes to bring in the New Year, as was the tradition when they were growing up. They got out milk, ice cream, and chocolate syrup, and the blender; it was like they were kids again. My dad scooped out what seemed to be a humorously large amount of vanilla ice cream, and Jon poured the milk in, and drizzled over the chocolate syrup. With a quick throw of the switch, the blender let out a guttural roar, and the contents inside swirled about the sides. Jon poured it into two glasses, and together, my father and he tried their concoction. “How is it?” I asked. My dad and uncle laughed and took more big sips from their glasses and looked at each other. “Awful,” my dad said. “You definitely shouldn’t try any,” said Jon. As gullible as I was then, I still knew that they were kidding, and enjoyed a New Years’ Eve milkshake. Another holiday that was a big deal for my family was Passover, a Jewish holiday that celebrates freedom, which takes place in the springtime. The holiday lasts for a week, over which the consumption of bread and all leavened food is forbidden. However, the most memorable part of the whole holiday was the ritual festive meals on the first and second nights of the holiday, the Seders. My father would take time off from work, and as a family, we traveled to my grandparents’ house outside Philadelphia near Valley Forge. We walked in the front