Nicole Tucker
Myself
February 4, 2014
Title: Christmas
Morning Back Scratch
Genre: Holiday
Tradition
Informant: The informant being myself, I’ll give a
little introduction. My full name is
Nicole Marie Tucker and I grew up in Utah County in a little town called
Lindon. No one has ever really heard it so
I introduce myself reigning from Pleasant Grove—the city of which I feel like I
grew up because it is where I attended high school. Basically every important thing that reared
my adolescence happened to me while I was in this wonderful city. I knew that
city like the back of my hand because I was a cross county runner and as a team
we traveled every street by foot as we ran.
My house in Lindon, through, was located directly behind an elementary
school. We had a clear view of an open
field and the beautiful front facing panorama of the great Mount Timpanogos
from our backyard.
Context: When it comes to Christmas, my immediate
family has some pretty odd traditions.
The one that has been around the longest and that is probably the most
bizarre is the Christmas morning back scratch.
Before dawn Christmas morning, after my siblings and I wake up, we
parade into my parent’s bedroom and the tradition begins. While my dad lies in bed each kid is required
to message his back for five whole minutes, alternating from youngest to oldest. It was always a time spent just talking and
laughing together before the craziness of Christmas began. My mom brought up memories reminiscing on
past Christmases and my brothers pulled out some ridiculous joke. After the
five of us completed nearly a half hour of back scratching it was officially
time to walk down stairs and reveal the excitement of Christmas.
Text: It is
required that each sibling in my family scratches my dad’s back for five
minutes before going down stairs to see what Santa brought on Christmas
morning.
Texture: We always wore our new Christmas jammies
that we received the night before on Christmas Eve. The brand new softness kept us warm on the
chilly morning. Since we gathered in my
parent’s room early before sunrise, the half hour back scratch began in the
dark and ended with dawn light revealing the world out of the east facing
windows. Some years, fog filled the
field behind our house. When my siblings
and I were really young each five-minute segment passed by so slowly. My
brother’s use to scold, “don’t watch the clock, it makes it go slower!” I believed them as I tried my hardest to
refrain from glancing over at the digital face.
I remember the dragging seconds pass by as I anxiously rubbed my dad’s
back. It was interesting to feel the
difference in myself as I sat and went through the same motions year after
year. Each year, the clock moved quicker
through five minutes as my mind and body grew up. There
were slightly different dynamics for a couple of years while my older brothers
were away serving LDS missions and my two younger sisters and I had to cover
their shifts in the back scratch. It was
a special year when we were finally all back together even with a new
sister-in-law addition. As the half hour
was up and we were finally able to go down stairs, relief and excitement filled
the room as Christmas day began.
Meaning: This tradition is always my claim to
fame. Whenever I tell someone about it,
they are surprised or in disbelief. It
is pretty odd, but it’s always what my family has done. Even as my family transitions from immediate
to more extended as we get older and add our own additions to the family, I
feel that this tradition will carry on.
I bet my brothers will carry it on in their family. Christmas morning wouldn’t be Christmas morning
with out the back scratch for dad before we walk down stairs into our living
room. Most of the time we complain about
it all year long, but deep down I know we all have a special place in our heart
for that half hour.
Bonnie Moore
English 2010 10:30
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