A long-standing tradition in the O’Kelley family is that on Christmas morning, along with a few other stocking goodies, we each receive a copy of Life’s Little Instruction Calendar. As visitors to the AppNexus office – I mean, my apartment – have noticed, this sits on top of my refrigerator and imparts wisdom (but only if you’re tall enough to see it).
There are some juicy bits: “Trust in god, but lock your car”, “Never forget the people who gave you a second chance”. And some less-helpful bits, usually dealing with marriages, kids, pets and other such things that don’t apply to my life at the moment.
I like the idea that in each of our homes, each family member gets the same tidbit every morning. When you walk into my kitchen and read the calendar, you’re participating in a family tradition.
I visited my grandmother’s house this week, perhaps for the last time. I walked the halls, thinking of all the time we spent there: the leaves flying from out-of-control shuffleboard pucks, the photo-placemats hidden under baskets of plantain chips and Whaleys cuban sandwich wrappers, waiting out thunderstorms on the porch so that we could build paper-cup boats in the gutters. It was sad, feeling the emptiness of each room, thinking about all of her things being taken down, stripping the house of its connections to our family.
Then I walked into the bathroom, and there on the toilet bowl was a Life’s Little Instruction Calendar, just a few days behind. And I knew, somehow, that it was going to be ok. You can’t take away our traditions any more than you can take away our memories.
