Memories & Traditions

The New Year started with a bang — and ended with Sienna eating the rib roast.

She was caught.
She was photographed.
She confessed.

Her defense? Apparently, the roast was simply too tempting.

Some traditions are carefully planned. Others involve PVC pipe, duct tape, a backyard, and a complete disregard for how ridiculous everyone looks.

2016 was the year Human Foosball became LEGON… (wait for it)… DERY! — and it remains one of the OG family favorites.

The kids, especially Hueston and Tristin, were young, enthusiastic, and absolutely overjoyed to be part of the action. The adults were equally competitive, although perhaps slightly less enthusiastic about the amount of twisting and turning.

And when darkness fell, we refused to quit.

We put our cell phones into plastic bags, taped them to our chests, turned on the flashlights, and somehow continued playing under our homemade lighting system.

It was ridiculous. It was chaotic. It was completely unnecessary.

And it was awesome.

By 2019, apparently Human Foosball wasn't quite enough. So we decided to take family competition to the next level and rented an inflatable jousting platform.

And what better matchup than Jonathan, the oldest brother, vs. Debbie, the younger sister?

What followed was billed as an epic battle between siblings.

It was epic.

Just not particularly long.

Jonathan came in determined and apparently had no intention of showing mercy to his little sister. Debbie fought valiantly, but things did not exactly go according to plan.

As Matthew stated:

“I got her here, then all of a sudden there was no one in the frame”

And he wasn't exaggerating.

One moment Debbie was there, ready for battle. The next, she had been launched into oblivion, leaving Jonathan standing victorious and the rest of the family laughing hysterically.

2019 was also the year we introduced a new family sport: “Midget Volleyball.”

Was the name politically correct? Absolutely not.

Was the game itself particularly successful? Also no.

The rules were simple — if you could call them rules:

• Everyone had to play on their knees.
• Your arms were duct-taped to your body, leaving only your forearms and hands free.
• Somehow, you were then expected to play volleyball.

What could possibly go wrong?

The answer: pretty much everything.

There were plenty of laughs, plenty of frantic scrambling, and plenty of people desperately trying to get their forearms under the ball.

There were also very few actual volleys.

But that's what made it so much fun. The game may have been a complete athletic disaster, but it produced exactly what these Rosh Hashanah events were all about: the entire family laughing together and creating another ridiculous memory.

By 2021, we had apparently decided that regular-sized games were no longer good enough.

So we took Twister outside and made it GIGANTIC.

Instead of colored circles on a mat, we turned the entire lawn into a giant Twister board. Everyone lined up, stretched out, twisted, reached, and contorted themselves into increasingly ridiculous positions.

It started out looking like a fun family game.

It ended up looking more like a group of adults desperately trying to remember where they left their chiropractor's phone number.

Hands down.
Feet up.
Bodies twisted.
Dignity optional.

And, as always, the real objective wasn't winning — it was getting everyone together, laughing until it hurt, and adding another ridiculous chapter to our Rosh Hashanah family history.

2021: When the family became one giant game of Twister.

By 2022, we'd clearly learned nothing from the previous years.

So we decided to turn the classic Hungry Hungry Hippos into a full-scale Rosh Hashanah backyard competition.

We bought hundreds of little plastic balls, scattered them throughout the yard, and gave each team a plastic bin — roughly 18" × 8" — to serve as their hippo's mouth.

Then we added the one ingredient every good family game needs:

Complete physical humiliation.

Each team paired up. One person grabbed their teammate's ankles while the other went into human wheelbarrow mode, hand-walking across the lawn with the bucket in front of them. Their mission was to corral as many balls as possible into their bucket.

Once the bucket was full, it was time to head back.

But walking wasn't an option.

The person holding the legs would drag their teammate — bucket and all — back across the lawn, bringing their precious collection of balls back to their team's towel.

And then there were the dogs.

Fenway quickly discovered that the little plastic balls were not just part of the game — they were chew toys. She figured out that she could bite down on them and puncture them, adding an entirely unexpected element to the competition:

Ball collection vs. canine destruction.

At this point, it was less Hungry Hungry Hippos and more Survivor: Rosh Hashanah Edition.

Hundreds of balls.
Human wheelbarrows.
Dragging teammates across the grass.
Dogs attacking the equipment.

And somehow, this was considered a perfectly reasonable way to celebrate the Jewish New Year.

Another OG family classic was born.

After years of increasingly elaborate Rosh Hashanah games, we decided that 2023 would be the year we really raised the bar.

The plan was a Beer Puppeteer drinking game — an elaborate contraption that was supposed to combine puppeteering, drinking, and family competition into one glorious event.

There was just one small problem:

It didn't work.

Despite the best efforts of the engineering department, the Beer Puppeteer failed to live up to its potential. The contraption was built. The concept was there. The expectations were high.

The execution… not so much.

And so, for the first time in the history of our Rosh Hashanah games, we basically didn't play anything.

We did, however, get a sign.

So technically, we have photographic evidence that something happened in 2023.

2023: We came. We built. We failed. We drank anyway.

By 2024, our Rosh Hashanah games had officially entered the Jurassic Era.

This year we introduced dinosaurs to the festivities, and Bryce and Susan gleefully volunteered for the job. They embraced their prehistoric responsibilities with all the grace, agility, and dexterity you'd expect from a couple of dinosaurs roaming the backyard.

And because apparently dinosaurs weren't enough, we also introduced another important piece of Rosh Hashanah game equipment:

The Cardboard Treasure Chest.

Naturally, it became an integral part of whatever ridiculous game we had created.

But 2024 also marked the beginning of a new family tradition — the annual complaints about the rules.

This year, the official complaint was:

“There's too much running!”

As the person responsible for designing these games, I have taken this feedback very seriously.

I will consider it carefully when designing future games.

Whether I actually do anything about it remains to be seen.

2024: Dinosaurs, treasure, excessive running, and another successful Rosh Hashanah.

2025 continued the proud Rosh Hashanah tradition of recruiting only the best and brightest to participate in our family games.

Once again, we welcomed the distinguished members of Stony Brook University's Class of 2020 to the festivities.

And, as expected, they did not disappoint.

Their education, intelligence, and presumably years of preparation at one of Long Island's finest universities were put to the ultimate test:

Rosh Hashanah backyard games.

Judging by the photographic evidence, the competition required intense concentration, exceptional hand-eye coordination, and perhaps a little liquid courage.

The Class of 2020 once again demonstrated that a Stony Brook education prepares you for just about anything.

2025: Stony Brook's finest. Rosh Hashanah's finest. Coincidence? We think not.