As I have been enjoying a week of vacation for Thanksgiving, I started thinking about traditions. No doubt many of you have your own that you observe, or perhaps you are starting new ones. While this week is filled with tradition for me, I also realized that some are not tied to a particular holiday. If you will indulge me, I want to talk about some that fall into both categories.
It was yesterday when I began to take note of the customary things that I do, and it began with something simple. Christy and I don’t have a lot of days off during the week together when we are in town. However, when we do, we make sure that we go and have breakfast at a local restaurant called Brewed. We both have this week off, and we decided to go yesterday. Brewed is a farm to table restaurant that sources as much of its food locally as possible. While I am fond of their scrambled skillets, Christy loves their chicken n’ waffles. They also serve Cuvee Coffee which has a unique flavor.
It may seem odd to consider a trip to a restaurant a tradition, but Brewed is not your ordinary eatery. The pictures and video on their site give you an idea of the quirky atmosphere inside, but it is also a place where things slow down. If you look around, most of the people inside are in the moment rather than being caught up in the endless hustle and bustle. It’s a great place to linger over one more cup of coffee or one of their fine beers — depending on the time of day.
Most of you are at least aware of Black Friday, and some of you may be warrior-shoppers who find great deals on the perfect gifts. However, I have a different tradition on this zaniest days. A few years ago, my friend (and fellow beer aficionado) Ben and I get together and enjoy the day at places that are far less crowded. Craft beer has become a big deal in DFW, and there are a number of places to have good food, beer, and company. We’ve been known to be found at places such as The Flying Saucer, Chimera Brewing Company (formerly Zio Carlo’s), and The Trinity River Tap House (formerly The Pour House, Ft. Worth). Doesn’t that sound more civil than fighting over a Furby (circa 1998)?
The final tradition that I’ve been thinking about is my annual trip to see a Dallas Maverick’s game with my Dad. We used to take in a Dallas Cowboys game, but the dollar for dollar value is much better with the Mavericks. The logistics are also a lot easier since I live close to a TRE station. You can’t beat having a train drop you off right across the street from the arena. It’s also great to be able to see one of the classiest athletes to ever come through Dallas in Dirk Nowitzki. His skill is even more amazing in person than it is on TV, and that’s saying something.
However, there’s more to these games than just the event. Dad comes and stays with us, and Christy and I get to spend time with him the day after before he goes back home. It’s good to take advantage of the opportunities that you.
The common theme in the traditions that I’ve mentioned is spending time with people and making memories. One of the descriptors I use for this blog is nostalgia. There’s a great dialog about it from one of the early episodes of AMC’s Mad Men. While the show isn’t perfect, they mastered storytelling. I’ve included the dialog below, but you need to watch the video in order to get the full effect. I think there’s a lot of truth in it, and it’s in part why traditions and memories are important.
Well, technology is a glittering lure. But there's the rare occasion when the public can be engaged on a level beyond flash, if they have a sentimental bond with the product. My first job, I was in-house at a fur company, with this old pro copywriter. Greek, named Teddy. And Teddy told me the most important idea in advertising is "new". Creates an itch. You simply put your product in there as a kind of... calamine lotion. But he also talked about a deeper bond with the product: nostalgia. It's delicate... but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, "nostalgia" literally means, "the pain from an old wound". It's a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn't a spaceship. It's a time machine. It goes backwards, forwards. It takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It's not called the Wheel. It's called a Carousel. It lets us travel the way a child travels. Around and around, and back home again... to a place where we know we are loved.
