Every family has traditions. Whether it's as simple as getting drunk on Thanksgiving and getting into a pissing match with your father or as complicated as making out with a midget, we all have them. What crazy things do the Johnson family do around the holidays?

To be blunt about it (and bear with me here) we hide a miniscule pickle ornament in our christmas tree every year. Where this ridiculous tradition came from depends on who you ask. As with any legend, there are many variations of the pickle story. There's the German version, where the person who finds the pickle on Christmas morning is said to have good luck for that year. Then there's the Bavarian Brothers version, which says the person who finds the pickle will get an extra present from St. Nick. There's the Americanized version, which is probably the most accurate since I believe EVERYTHING the history channel says. And finally there is the Johnson version. Here it is:

I was always told that this was a Ukranian tradition. My mother is Ukranian and although she buys a lot of weird crap, I love her to death. I am especially interested in my heritage from Ukraine. This tradition, as it was told to me, dates back to the suppression of the knaves and peasant uprising in Southern Russia which eventually led to the formation of modern Ukraine. As anyone with a geography sense knows, Ukraine is cold. Very cold. These emigrants were still very religious (as most lower-class, uneducated citizens are) so they needed to keep hope alive by celebrating the birth of their god's son. They braved the ridiculous conditions with unfathomable courage and minimal technology to comfort them. This didn't stop them from continuing their christmas spirit by putting the frasier fir in the corner of their tin shacks. Since food was hard to come by and presents were only found in dreams, they used to hang one ormament on Christmas eve. This ornament was a pickle. The mother would hide the pickle deep into the tree and on Christmas morning, the person who found it first would receive the only gift that was given out that year. A kiss from the mother of the household.

Is this story true? Probably not as I told it. But I'm sure it happened somewhere, someplace. And it serves as a reminder that Christmas time is not about the presents. It's not about the end of a cold year. It's certainly not about the immaculate birth of some asshole who would set us back about 2006 years. Christmas is about love. For this reason alone, the tradition of the christmas pickle will continue as long as I still live.
 

If anyone else had any good traditions they want to share with the rest of the world, feel free to post it here.

*A special thanks to my Jew friend, Jen, who reminded me why the pickle needs to be hung every year. (She even bought me one to hang!) Thanks.