My grandfather grew up during the Great Depression. For him, a good Christmas meant a new pair of socks and an orange. So every year, someone in the family receives socks for Christmas, a tradition that has continued and carries a little more meaning now that he is deceased. This year, my whole family got socks. So I guess it was a good Christmas. (My husband had to return home today, the 23rd, for work, so we opened gifts a little early.)
In honor of a New York tradition that is being revived this Christmas, complete with competition, I shall leave you with this beautiful fire burning until I return home. Should you stop by, please feel free to comment about any traditions your family shares.