For Acculturated: What 'Persuasion' Can Teach Millennials...

I remember the first time I read Persuasion. I was a Junior in high school, home for two back-to-back snow days. I spent both days curled up in various cozy spots throughout the house, reading feverishly. I read it faster than any other Jane Austen novel, devouring its insights on heartache and longing and forgiveness. In the throes of the last few chapters, my AP Gov teacher called inquiring about an assignment, telling me I should be doing schoolwork even though there was no school. "But, I'm reading Persuasion!" I said. And she sighed, longingly sighed, and we shared a moment talking about the greatness of Jane Austen's final piece of fiction. She knew her homework had no chance, the only thing winning my attention and heart that snowy night was Frederick Wentworth himself. And he still has it. Happy 200th anniversary, Persuasion! Read my latest Acculturated article that celebrates it here.

Learning to Be Merry about Mary

How many Marys under the age of fifty do you know? I'll wager, not many. For many of you, only one, and she is writing this post. Once the most popular girl name -- hello 1500-1960 -- Mary is now a blast from the past. Just recently I had someone say to me, "Mary is a great name. It's my grandmother's name." Yep, that's me - a remnant of your grandmother's era.

I have often wondered if my name suits me. Do I look like a Mary, talk like a Mary? If you saw me on the street, would Mary be the name you'd guess for me? I've never come up with a better option, never felt connected to another name. I never had the courage to request something else, like Anne Shirley requests Cordelia, or Christine McPherson requests Lady Bird (which if you have not seen, you absolutely need to). Yet, sometimes I resent my name and all the assumptions* and cultural baggage that come with it.

"Mary McGinley? You must be Irish, then." Or, "Mary McGinley. Let me guess - Catholic." Or, "Which song do you prefer?" Or, "Well aren't you contrary."

In my old age of twenty-five, I have learned to handle these interactions with relative grace, to not pull a Darcy but just accept my fate of having a name loaded with meaning. Yet, while I can laugh off the nursery rhymes, I cannot laugh off my namesake and the example she sets for me. Mary, Mother of God. How can anyone have such a name but her?

For Acculturated: Can Santa Claus Survive...

This holiday season, I am working at Macy's Dickens Village in Philadelphia as a Santa Photographer. Visiting Santa was never part of my family's Christmas tradition, so I've been fascinated to see how many people of all ages come to see Santa as an annual event. The wish lists I've heard range from teddy bears to computers, but definitely are heavy on the technology end, which led me to wonder, where does Santa fit in our hi-tech society today? Read my latest for Acculturated.

I'm Dreaming of an Untraditional Christmas

I am a keeper of tradition. Maybe it's because I'm Catholic - tradition is sort of our claim to fame; or maybe it's because of my family. My brother cried - cried - when my Dad changed his glasses frames. I am a creature of routine generally, but there is a special spark to tradition, to the notion of annual, shared routines that we anticipate all year long. There are food traditions: shrimp harpin for Christmas Eve; peaches and cream pie or coconut cake for my birthday; lamb stew for my grandmother's birthday. There are activity traditions: finding Easter baskets; opening presents youngest to oldest; dressing in costumes for 4th of July.  Oh, and my favorite tradition - fighting about what is tradition: do we eat turkey, ham, and/or beef on Christmas; what holiday deserves bing cherry salad; do we celebrate Wigilia or not?

Yet, despite my love of routine, tradition is starting to lose its luster for me. Perhaps it is because with siblings married and cousins moved away, tradition hasn't really been the same the last few years. Or perhaps the foodie in me is just sick and tired of having a menu with few surprises and high tension. Or perhaps the single woman in me is dreading the conversations about my love life (pssh, who am I kidding, I love those conversations.) Whatever the reason, I am thrilled to report this year I am breaking the mold and celebrating Christmas free from tradition! Or am I?