Happy New Year

The Engineer — observing an obscure family tradition passed on by his maternal grandmother when he was slightly more than a year old — eats pickled herring at midnight, for luck, every blessed New Year’s Eve.

I didn’t realize it was already midnight when he came back into the living room from the kitchen and I kissed him.

Blergh. Blargh. Blech. Ack.

I love him anyway.


7 thoughts on “Happy New Year

    • I doubt I can budge a lifelong habit. Story is, his dad came home about 12:30 am from visiting Mom and the new little brother at the hospital (after that they apparently figured out what was causing it) and there was Grandma spooning mashed herring between the infant Engineer’s toothless gums. For some reason, he liked it a lot. A lifetime of gastronomy.

  1. My mom has the same tradition. I think it’s English. Luckily, I’ve never kissed her in such a manner – that’d be revolting even without the herring, lol! The new rule in your house is that you immediately follow the herring with the grapes. Cleanses the palette, doubles the good luck, and prevents you from a very disturbing smooch. That, or just drink enough bourbon that neither of you notice…

    • Armagnac. (See “The Picard”.)

      The Engineer’s folks are Irish Catholic, but these things get around the barracks — actually his dad was going to be a priest and something happened, The Engineer I think. They now tick “none” in the Religious Affiliation column, but grandma was adamant, about both her traditions and her catechism.

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