Sometimes holiday traditions have strange backstories.

I remember the first time Uncle Mack, Aunt Doris and my cousin, Angie, came over for biscuits on Christmas morning. I was 8 years old, and I called to see what Santa Claus brought Angie that morning.

I had gotten one of those life-size Barbie heads that came with accessories so that I could fix her hair and makeup. I was beyond excited and whispered to my mom, "Can we invite them over for biscuits?"

My mom said yes, and aunt, uncle and cousin arrived 30 minutes later.

They came over every Christmas morning for the next 52 years — until my dad died and my mom moved away from the town where we all grew up.

I'm grateful for those years we had together, but all these decades later I realize that traditions change no matter how much we

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