The Heart of Chinese New Year
Memories from the 1980s
When I think of my childhood in Shandong, China, my mind often drifts to Chinese New Year. It wasn’t just a holiday; it was a season of magic, where the rhythms of our rural village life transformed into something electric and extraordinary. As a little girl in the early 1980s, those days were the best of the year — a kaleidoscope of colors, tastes, and traditions that nourished the soul as much as it did the body.
In the weeks leading up to the New Year, my mother would begin her most cherished project of the season: making new clothes for me. The fabric we bought from the market was nothing special, just simple printed cotton, but to me, it was everything. I can still recall the faint, clean scent of the fabric and the rhythmic hum of her sewing machine as she worked late into the night. Her quiet love was stitched into every seam, and even though the clothes weren’t fancy, wearing them felt special, like carrying a piece of her care.
New Year’s preparations were a family affair. My grandparents and parents worked together for days, cooking and preparing meals for the festivities. In our village, traditions were steeped in both joy and superstition. Cleaning the house before New Year’s Eve was essential to sweep away bad luck, but no cleaning was allowed on New Year’s Day for fear of sweeping away good fortune. Red paper couplets with auspicious phrases were carefully pasted on doorframes to invite prosperity, and fresh tangerines were placed in the corners of our home for luck.
Food was central to the celebrations, and the whole family took part. Dumplings were the star, their crescent shape symbolizing wealth and prosperity. My brother and I helped pinch the dumpling edges, careful not to let the filling spill out—a sign of good fortune being sealed in. Every dish held meaning: fish for abundance, sticky rice cakes for rising success, and long noodles for longevity. Families would also prepare sacrificial offerings for ancestors, lighting incense and bowing to show respect and gratitude.
On New Year’s Eve, the entire village seemed to hum with an unspoken agreement: tonight, no one would sleep. Children like me played in the courtyard, bundled in layers, cheeks rosy from the winter frost. Sparklers crackled in our hands as we ran around, painting trails of light in the cold night air. Meanwhile, my father would remind us to avoid using knives or scissors—superstitions dictated that sharp objects could cut off luck.
At the stroke of midnight, fireworks illuminated the dark skies. The loud, explosive bursts were meant to scare away evil spirits, and the sight always left me breathless. Afterward, we gathered to eat steaming dumplings, their warmth spreading through us like a blessing. It felt as though the entire world had paused to welcome the promise of a new year.
The days that followed were filled with visits to relatives and neighbors. Every family opened their doors with generosity, offering treats like candied fruits, sunflower seeds, and savory snacks. Children received red envelopes filled with money, a cherished tradition that brought both excitement and a sense of being loved. The village, usually so quiet, buzzed with laughter, chatter, and the sounds of firecrackers.
Chinese New Year was more than just a celebration; it was a time when life felt fuller, richer. It was when my family’s love, often tucked away in the daily grind of survival, shone through in gestures big and small. Even now, as I think back, I can almost hear the laughter echoing through the courtyard, feel the crisp Shandong air on my face, and taste the dumplings my parents worked so hard to prepare. It was the best time of the year—not just because of the clothes, the food, or the fireworks, but because it was a time when the world felt brighter, and our small village felt like the center of it all.
As I prepare for my Chinese New Year party this year, my mind drifts back to those days in Shandong. Then, it was about survival, connection, and simple joys. Now, it is about celebration, gratitude, and sharing these memories with those I love. The essence remains the same—Chinese New Year is a time when the world feels brighter, no matter where I am.