Traditions are reflections of beliefs, superstitions and the personality of a family. I stop short of saying that they are the soul of a family because my family can no longer celebrate these traditions, but the spirit of my family continues to be an integral part of my life, despite the distance that sets us apart. The soul of my family remains unharmed from the miles that deprive us of the opportunity to celebrate common traditions. Regardless of how far we are apart, there is one tradition that can overcome any lengthy amount of distance, and that is my Aunt Millie’s Cinnamon-pecan rolls.
People move away from their extended families, and traditions can fade, which is why it is important to have a trademark that easily identifies your ...
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- Our Italian Tradition It was Christmas Eve. I sat, huddled in a ball, behind the armchair in my living room. I was trying to be as still and patient as I could be. I remember moments where I held my breath thinking if she heard me breathe, she would leave and I would never get a chance to see her. I could feel myself drifting off to sleep, but I tried to resist. All I wanted was to see her just once. Usually, I would be scared at the thought of a witch, but she was different. She was a magical witch who flew on a broom from house top to house top, visiting children and filling their shoes with candy and chocolates.... [tags: Personal Narrative Writing]
2079 words (5.9 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Christmas Cookies Although I have grown up to be entirely inept at the art of cooking, as to make even the most wretched chef ridicule my sad baking attempts, my childhood would have indicated otherwise; I was always on the countertop next to my mother’s cooking bowl, adding and mixing ingredients that would doubtlessly create a delicious food. When I was younger, cooking came intrinsically with the holiday season, which made that time of year the prime occasion for me to unite with ounces and ounces of satin dark chocolate, various other messy and gooey ingredients, numerous cooking utensils, and the assistance of my mother to cook what would soon be an edible masterpie... [tags: Personal Narrative]
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- Personal Narrative- Eventful Thanksgiving The crisp, cool, and cinnamon air filled the morning of Thanksgiving in 1987. Although I was only two years and eleven months old, I remember the scratchy, fuzzy, purple- footed pajamas that I was wearing that morning. After I woke up, I "helped" my mom make her famous orange- cranberry relish, got dressed in my cream sweater dotted with cherries and my navy pleated skirt, topped off with my favorite cream fuzz- warn tights, and before I knew it we were out the door to my grandmother's house.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
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- Personal Narrative- Mountain Hike In hiking, as in life, there are choices between success and pain, pride and safety; this is the story of one such choice. Last summer I participated in the Rayado program at Philmont Scout Ranch. The eighth day of the trek was my crew’s greatest challenge: Super Black Death, a hike of seven peaks in one day. By 4 PM we had conquered most of the peaks. As we were climbing what we thought was our sixth peak, Big Red, a storm struck. It was a cold driving rain that froze us as we struggled up the mountain.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
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