Several Christmases ago I decided each of my children needed an ice cream freezer.  But not just any ice cream freezer.  I was looking for the same freezer I had—one with a banded wooden bucket and a motor powerful enough to keep churning when others wimp out.  And you know what?  Such ice cream freezers are in short supply in the winter.  As in non-existent.

Imagine that.

I honestly don’t understand why.  It’s like you can’t have homemade ice cream if it’s cold outside? In my world any birthday, no matter the month, calls for whatever flavor ice cream the birthday human desires, hand mixed with the best ingredients and freshly frozen.  So far there’s been the traditional chocolate and vanilla plus banana, strawberry, peach, chocolate-chocolate covered cherry, and salted caramel.  Those last two were fun . . .

I learned my lesson, and the following summer I ordered two of the freezers and then stored them for six or seven months.  And when Christmas rolled around, they simultaneously unwrapped their packages and squealed—well, at least a few of them did.  The others just grinned.

Fast forward a bit and it’s time for a birthday celebration in my son’s bunch.  So he calls to get my vanilla ice cream recipe.  Then he asks me if I’m ok with him making the ice cream ‘cause he knows that’s kinda my thing and he doesn’t want to step in and do it if I’m not all right with it.

He didn’t understand; that’s exactly why I gave it to him.

The day will come, probably sooner rather than later, when I won’t be able or even around to fill the role of mixer and maker of the ice cream.  And that’s a tradition that doesn’t need to die with me. Besides, if he makes it, I don’t have to clean out the bucket.

The same holds true with baking.  That’s why decades ago I started including my daughter in my cookie creations.  I had earned a certain . . . shall we say “reputation”. . . among my kids’ classmates, thanks to the cookies I would take to school, especially with my son’s room when they were working their way through the alphabet, studying a different letter each week.  Every Friday, at the teacher’s request, I would arrive with cookies that represented that week’s designated letter.  I’d come walking down the hall, treats in hand, to the joyous shouts of “It’s the Cookie Lady!”

Now, after years of “cookiethons” where she and I spend three or four days doing nothing but baking cookies to give away, the pupil has become the teacher.  Just this week she showed me a trick to warming butter in the microwave without making a mess or turning it into a puddle.  And did you know cookies will actually talk to you?  If you listen very carefully, you can hear the moisture in them still sizzling if they aren’t quite done.  Believe me, that bit of knowledge kept us from pulling several pans before they were ready.  Where I’ll take a recipe and maybe tweak it just a bit, she can start from scratch and create masterpieces.

Every family has their traditions, their recipes and ways, the tricks and tips they’ve learned over the years, and sometimes we make the mistake of believing those aren’t important or we can share that knowledge later, when there’s more time, or they’re older, or . . .

So, what secrets will disappear the day you do?  What recipes are family favorites that will always be talked about but never tasted again when you can no longer make them?  What traditions come with the holidays that your family may not even think about until you aren’t there to ensure they’re followed?

It’s the time of year when families gather to share and to celebrate.  So why don’t you?  Share the stories behind the ornaments on the tree, hand out the dressing recipe that came from your mother who got it from hers, who got it from hers.  Tell the tales of days gone by . . . and take the time to honor the past and those who dwell there now. It may not seem that important, but one of these days, when you’re no longer around to make the ice cream or bake the cookies—or whatever else it is your family takes for granted you’ll always do, especially around the holidays—someone else can carry on.

About the author:  Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926.  She has been employed at Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 40 years and currently serves as the manager there.  Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone, and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.

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