About this time every year, I get involved in one or more conversations with someone about favorite holiday traditions. Theirs seem to be full of the normal stuff -- eggnog while decorating the Christmas tree, singing carols in the neighborhood, writing the annual holiday newsletter.....Not always the stuff of a Norman Rockwell painting, but charming nonetheless.
My own favorite traditions include plenty of "normal" things -- Christmas Eve service with the family, making fudge, cookie exchanges and the like. But the one that is my favorite, and the one that always requires some further explanation, is that of elf balls.
Let's get this straight -- this has nothing to do with the nether parts of Santa's helpers, shiny ornaments painted with funny hats and pointy ears or anything involving polar sports.
Elf balls were the creation of my mother when we were young, and starting to learn that our traditions weren't exactly like everyone else's. While it's been long enough that the exact details have long since been lost in the fuzz that has become my memory, I think it went something like this:
At Christmas Eve service, one of my friends must have said something to the effect of "Look at the pretty sweater I got for Christmas!" When I checked my mental calendar, I realized that Christmas was still several loooong hours away, and so how could she possibly know what she got for Christmas already?!? This was the first realization that some families got to open one or more presents on Christmas Eve. And the realization that ours wasn't one of those families struck a chord of great unfairness in my greedy little heart. So naturally, we pestered our parents to be able to open "just one, pleeeeease, just one small" present on Christmas Eve. The answer, of course, was always "No." So, off we shuffled to bed (though not to sleep), to lie awake thinking of Santa and when he would be there and what he would bring and how it was ever-so-cruel to not let us open a present on Christmas Eve.
One year, as we returned from service, we entered the living room to discover 2 grapefruit-sized, lumpy balls of red and green crepe paper on the hearth -- one for me, and one for my little sister. With a suspicious eyebrow cocked (have you forgotten that the details are lost? I'm adding them in as they seem to make for good narration), I asked what they were and who they were from. Apparently, the elves had come by early, to make sure all was ready for Santa to arrive, and left these for us.
As we plopped down in the middle of the living room to unwrap them, my parents poured themselves a nice hot cuppa tea, and sat back to watch and instruct (the first encounter with these was a new adventure, so some coaching was required to understand the purpose and construction of them). The balls were basically red or green crepe paper streamer, wrapped around and around the contents. As we unwrapped, every turn or two would uncover a small toy, or piece of candy, or some other goody. About halfway through the ball, the paper changed from red to green (or vice-versa), and the unwrapping continued. Whether that change was a result of a breakage in the streamer as the elves were creating the delight, or because the elves wanted a change in the color they were staring at, or because the elves didn't want any fighting over "Why did she get the green one? I like green best!" I can't be sure, but it's a part of the tradition that continues to this day.
Once the balls were completely unwrapped (which usually had my sister done many minutes ahead of me, as that's our approach to presents), we had a large pile of crepe paper on one side, and a small pile of toys and goodies on the other. In the middle was something a bit larger, such as an ornament, a small stuffed toy or a necklace in a small jewelry box. As we got older, the goodies inside the elf ball changed. Cheap plastic spider rings were replaced with jelly bracelets (I did grow up in the 80's, ya know), balloons were replaced with inexpensive necklaces, and sheets of stickers were replaced with scratch-off lottery tickets. As we got older, small jigsaw puzzles started making an appearance. And a few years later, the elves seemed to take great pleasure in giving us one puzzle between the 2 of us, and watching as we grudgingly worked together to get it put together. What happily remained the same were the candies -- lots of chocolate (though even those evolved, going from the 99¢ bag of generic choco-treats to actual Hershey's dark chocolate), and.....well, that's all you need, really, is chocolate.
One of the saddest days in my memory is the Christmas Eve that we came home from service to discover that the elves thought we were old enough to get by without elf balls. There are several passages into adulthood that you look forward to: getting your driver's license, voting in your first election, your 21st birthday, making your first mortgage payment. There are some passages into adulthood that you very much dread: getting fired from your first job, discovering that you don't get to keep all the money you make in any job, the loss of a family member. But perhaps the saddest of these is the realization that Santa and the elves won't come to your hearth forever.
I found some solace in passing the tradition on to the important children in my life. I get such a kick out of shopping for the little treats that will go into the elf balls (though it's tricky until they hit age 5, when most small toys stop warning that these munchkins shouldn't have this toy), and making the elf balls -- er, helping the elves create them, that is. I wonder if their experiences are similar to mine: starting to become suspicious of Mom's involvement, as she always seems to forget her purse and have to go back in for it once we're all in the car, ready to go to service; not being able to focus on the baby Jesus and what those gifts are that the wise men brought, 'cuz it can't be as exciting as the elfballs that are waiting at home; thinking back on the elfballs every time we put together one of those tiny jigsaws.....
I don't mind repeating this explanation over and over, year after year, because every time I do, I get to relive the memories, and see the smile on someone's face as they realize just what a genius my mother is. And I don't mind at all if someone takes this idea and borrows it, because the more people that know the pure happiness that only an elfball can bring, the better. And if those people are grown-up kids, then so much the better. :)