Painting chairs

There are those traditions I pursue with, frankly, a touch of manic zeal. Celebrating Advent, making gravy for Italian Festival, putting up a Christmas tree with every ornament my kids have ever made. These are the traditions that I actively sought out. The ones from my childhood that I consciously intended to continue.

As my kids got old enough to remember year to year, they began to inform me about our family traditions as they saw them. We make a list of what we want to do during the summer and tape it to the wall. We tie dye tshirts. We have family movie nights.

I didn’t intend to start those traditions. They happened spontaneously, and the kids decided they were worth remembering, repeating, and adapting.

When I was in high school, I painted a set of beat up metal folding chairs with Italian phrases, outlines of Italian buildings, and names of my Italian Festival teammates (now hopelessly incomplete). Years later, my younger cousins added their own painted chairs to the collection. Today, my kids painted two more. My unofficial uncle (uncle by marriage? At this point, the lines are blurred enough that perhaps just uncle is most appropriate) mentioned some chairs that could use paint while we were putting up the fence around our booth. He brought them to my house, I did the spray paint, and my kids got to work. This afternoon, we’ll take them to the park and line them up with all the others.

Those original chairs are twenty years old. There was nothing traditional about them. Just something made by a kid who loved spending the first weekend of her summer with her family eating, sweating, and celebrating. How nice to see that be the tradition that is passing on.