Christmas without Tamales

Sometime earlier this week, my sisters decided that my mom was too sick and tired to make tamales. Note, they didn't decide that we could make them instead.

Tamales or no tamales is not what makes Christmas. I guess I have learned that the hard way. Living far away from home for so many years, I had to do without tamales quite a bit. One year I even made my own, by myself... and maybe that was when I learned that it wasn't about the tamales.

What has always marked our Christmases is the making in group of the tamales. It takes all day and all night between the preparation, the assembly and the cooking. And in between all of the people wander in and out of the kitchen; some help, some steal olives, some fix drinks, and some entertain the cooks. Growing up my favorite part of Christmas was that we got to have the whole family in the house, but there was little pressure to do any one thing. Of course, all the moms and tias complained that I didn't take my place on the assembly line, but in some way that was entertainment for them too.

A few more important facts to note: my mother never celebrated Christmas as a child. Her family was poor, it wasn't their tradition, and they didn't put up trees or sit around and make tamales all night. My mom created the tradition after she was married as a way of bringing together all the various pieces of her family: her brothers (she's the only girl), my dad's siblings and all of the cousins.

It took me a long time to figure out that my mother hadn't been celebrating Christmas this way her whole life. She guards every piece of the traditions she's created very fiercely. She doesn't like to vary the menu or the way anything is prepared in the least. She takes it as a personal insult if anyone suggests that she add or take away ingredients. Though, for the short time I was a vegetarian, she did learn to make a new kind of tamale for me that she then added to the tradition as though it had always been there.

Over the years, the guest list has become more and more limited... more because as the cousins have grown up they have their own family gatherings, but also because my mom is unwilling to give up any piece of her guardianship of tradition. So the house is no longer full of people, but there is also less drama. But there are fewer tamaleras to help with the making and cooking of the tamales. None of us girls are wildly interested in cooking, but some of that has to do with the strictness with which my mother guards everything.

So, it should not have surprised me when my sisters decided that we would just have something else and that rather than coordinate with each other, we would all just make whatever we wanted. When it was five o'clock, the chosen eating time, and there were no appetizers, there was some backlash. And there was too much food and nothing went well together. It was a little like Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving... popcorn and peanut butter sandwiches... on the other hand, it was very sweet to have everyone around the table to eat together instead of some stuck in the kitchen cooking (though there were three of us stuck in the kitchen for a while).

It was also nice to not have my mom whirling around like the tasmanian devil all day. She was nervous in the service... that's what I call it when she just doesn't know what to do with herself. I made her go for a walk with my sister and I to run our last minute Christmas and trip shopping. Then I took her to the cemetery to visit one set of grandparents and some other relatives and my friend, Jaime. Every Christmas I try to visit Jaime and my grandmothers... I lost all of them (in different years) at this time of the year. When we got back there was still time for all of us to sit around and finish wrapping our gifts. It was a chore no one was looking forward to, but somehow, like making tamales in group, it was more fun together.

So, it turns out Christmas will come and go without tamales... and traditions and recipes can be tweaked, and the sky will not fall.

Merry Christmas all...