By Abe Villarreal

When I lived in Silver City, NM, there was a yarn shop called Yada Yada Yarn. I always liked that name. I'm not sure if the proprietors defined it as a yarn shop. Maybe it was a fabric store, or a sweater store.

There was yarn everywhere. Thick yarn and not-so-thick yarn. Deep colors and light colors. The kind of yarn to make scarfs and bonnets. The kind that seems to keep going and going.

I liked that place because there was a group of ladies that would sit together to knit, and to chat. One of the ladies said that knitting together was something that ladies did for generations, but it's something that doesn't happen much anymore. That's one of the reasons the ladies at Yada Yada Yarn did it. To keep the tradition alive. Knitting and chatting. Learning from each other. Creating community.

A lot of traditions are not traditions anymore. We are in a hurry. Knitting seems like it doesn't get us from point A to point B. We can't stay in one place. We are nervous people.

Most traditions are born organically. Normal people doing normal things. They don't start as traditions. They become them when what you do becomes necessary to you and those around you.

I meet up with a group of friends every Friday morning for coffee. There are the regulars, and there are the new folks that stop by for one or two visits. It's not for everyone, but the core group of us keep it going.

Meeting up for coffee. Sometimes there isn't much of anything new to share or to say to each other. Still, we meet up to see each other. To know that we are still here.

I don't think there are any strong communities that exist without traditions. I'm thinking of the kind of communities that go beyond shopping districts and fast-food restaurants. Communities with buildings built by our great-grandfathers. Communities that look old and new at the same time.

They always have traditions. People meeting up for church every week. County fairs and rodeos in late summer. Bed races and stair climbing competitions. Tortilla making and hot air balloon festivals. These kinds of traditions keep neighbors as neighbors and communities as communities.

Then, there are communities that lose traditions. People stop coming together to do something that's special to them, even if it's not special to anyone else. Annual religious pilgrimages and summer musical festivals. Fall corn mazes and winter wreath laying. Some communities live for these traditions, and these traditions that keep them alive.

When I was a student, my university had a weekly event called Hot Dogs & More. It happened every Thursday, and it seemed like the entire student population would go. It wasn't an educational event, just a fun, free food event. I'm sure that's how it started, but it became more than that over time.

Church groups would stop by with homemade desserts. Community members would be there to say hello and make us feel welcome in our new home of four years. There were always hot dogs, but there was so much more. When the tradition stopped, I felt like part of the student experience went with it. Being a student there was now a little less special.

I'm not a knitter. Maybe I haven't given it too much of a chance. I do like to have a morning cup of coffee. I like helping at the soup kitchen on the weekends. Maybe I could start a tradition there. Everyone thinks they can't cook, but soup kitchens aren't places for chefs.

I think my town needs more traditions. Not the big kind that gets covered on the front pages of the paper. The small kind that happens with people that you see around town but that you don't know very well.

A tradition that brings you back over and over. Back to where you started and then realized why it was so important.

Abe Villarreal writes about the traditions, people, and culture of America. He can be reached at abevillarreal@hotmail.com.