NONTRADITIONAL TRADITIONS

Christmastime is congested with family traditions that make your family unique — that bond you together — that you reminisce about for years to come. While some of you might have had a cookie baking day with Grandma, we at the Byers house leaned toward more of your nontraditional traditions: seeing who could hold the dangerously hot Christmas tree light the longest, taking bets on how long it would take Dad to curse while assembling the fake tree and arguing if the dog could die from eating a wrapped box of chocolate-covered cherries (she didn’t).

One of my favorite nontraditional traditions didn’t begin until I was in high school. The origin of this tradition was an event that happened during the summer of 1987.

Back in high school, my best friend, Kristen came over to my house unannounced to see me at 9:30 p.m. on a Saturday night. Now, this does not seem like an unusual thing for a high school friend to do, but this friendly gesture set into motion a chain of events. To ring our doorbell after dusk was the equivalent of sounding an air raid horn at midnight. Without knowing it, Kristen had thrown my house into a panic. The doorbell sent our dog, Fozzie, into a crazed, barking frenzy.

As it turns out, I was not home from work when Kristen sounded the alarm. So, my brother, Matt, was left to handle the situation. On this fateful night, Kristen entered our house like she entered every room — loudly. As Matt wrestled the dog and explained to her that I was not home, she paused in our front hallway and looked up the staircase. There he was. At the top of the stairs. Scratching his head. Looking angry. In nothing but his Fruit of the Loom white briefs. My Dad. He and Kristen locked eyes. He went back into the bedroom. The whole episode may have lasted five seconds, but if you ask Kristen, it lasted a lifetime. She immediately turned bright red and tears stung her eyes. She made a hurried exit. When I got home later, Matt told me that I should probably call Kristen. There had been an incident.

Me (blaming the victim): Why did you come over to my house so late unannounced?

Kristen: Why didn’t you tell me to never come over to your house at night?!

Me: I just thought that was a rule for every house?! I heard you saw my Dad in his tightie-whities. I am so sorry.

Kristen: I can never come over and see your Dad again! My face is still red. Ahhh, just talking about it is making my eyes water!

For the next 22 years, Matt and I commemorated The Great Underwear Incident of 1987 at Christmastime. My Dad was a simple man. Every year the only things he wanted for Christmas were socks and underwear. So, each year under the tree was a wrapped gift, “To: Bill, From: Kristen.” Sometimes “Kristen” bought him the traditional white briefs and sometimes she would shake things up with a boxer brief in a fun color. And, after my Dad passed away, I finally told Kristen of our tradition. Her eyes got watery and her face turned red. This tradition left her speechless.