Isms: Views on life in rural America

I’ve been stuck in a “traditions” mindset lately. Last Wednesday, I couldn’t stop thinking about new year rituals.

When the Huskers played in a Dec. 31 or Jan. 1 bowl game, Dad would place a 33LP on the record player and watch the needle land on a groove. The record: recordings from the University of Nebraska Marching Band. First song up: The Band Song.

If you’ve ever followed the band to Memorial Stadium, you’ve probably heard it. It was one of Dad’s favorites. I can still hear him singing the lyrics:

“Hear the trumpets playin’, Hear the crowd a sayin’

NU Band is on parade!

Hear the trombones blowin’, Hear the drums a rollin’

NU Band is on Parade!

Sound Out! Sound Out! Sound out loud and clear.

Let the team all know the Band is here.

Sons of Old Nebraska If someone should ask ya,

We’re the Scarlet and the Cream!”

For the evening meal, Mom made lasagna and, as a side dish, served black-eyed peas. The peas represent wealth and are thought to bring good luck. The year the Huskers played Florida in the Sugar Bowl, Dad said the black-eyed peas would bring a Big Red victory. He was correct. Nebraska defeated the Gators, 13-10.

Once the kitchen was spotless, we’d watch football until Dick Clark’s Rockin’ Eve. At midnight, Mom would open the front door, ushering out bad luck and welcoming the good, while Laurie and I stepped out on the back porch, yelled “Happy New Year” and rattled noisemakers.

On New Year’s Day, we’d cuddle in blankets on the couch and watch the Rose Parade, oohing and ahhing at the beautiful display of floats. Football filled the remainder of the day and when we’d get bored with a game, we’d grab a book and read. Mom set up an all-day buffet on the kitchen counters, including a crock pot of sloppy joes, old-fashioned charcuterie boards (you know, a meat and cheese tray and a veggie tray), fresh fruit and a plate of homemade goodies.

A few of those years, we traveled to bowl games. I distinctly remember driving through an ice storm in north Texas, which turned into snow-covered roads in Oklahoma and it seemed nobody, except Nebraskans, knew how to drive. That was a nerve-wracking ride home.

While we kept busy all those new year days, it was a lazy busy, where time didn’t control our lives and we didn’t have deadlines to meet. It was a day for family and football and fun.

This year, we didn’t dine on lasagna or black-eyed peas. We were home by midnight and propped the front door open, letting the ghosts of 2024 exit as goals and plans for 2025 swept in. On Wednesday, after I wrapped up posting the E-edition and tied up a few loose ends for work, I grabbed a blanket, curled up on the couch and watched the Rose Parade, followed by three hours of news coverage from NOLA, and then, took a nap. Later, we watched football and cooked, although the counter tops weren’t covered with food and snacks.

It wasn’t quite like growing up in the 60s and 70s, but the slower pace felt pretty darn close. I may be a week late, but here’s to a healthy, wealthy and slower new year, from our house to yours.