Growing up, I didn’t realize my family’s holiday traditions were different from everyone else’s. Because we were Jewish, December 25th was a regular day for us. We celebrated Hanukkah whenever it was scheduled that year, but the main holiday of the season was New Year’s.

On New Year’s Eve, our family gathered in my grandparents’ apartment. We ate dinner and chattered excitedly as we flipped to a Russian channel on TV. We only half-watched the movies playing, as we’d seen them all before– they were Soviet New Year’s movies that we watched every year. The music and voices and scenes we caught parts of served more as familiar comfort than entertainment. It’s only now that I look back and realize this custom was similar to the tradition of watching American Christmas movies on Christmas.

When it came time to count down to the New Year, my grandfather opened a bottle of champagne. We filled our glasses and waited, not in anticipation of the ball dropping, but while listening to the chimes of the Kremlin broadcasting live from the Russian channel. Every year we kids tried to convince the adults to let us watch the ball drop, but to no avail– the adults would always rather listen to the Russian President deliver his New Year’s message when the clock struck twelve.

After we finished sipping our champagne and nibbling on desserts, it was time to go to sleep. After all, Ded Moroz, or Grandfather Frost, wouldn’t visit if we were awake. My mother, my sister and I made the short trip downstairs to our own apartment. Eyeing the decorated tree as we passed through the living room, my sister and I eagerly went to bed.

At eight in the morning, my sister and I ran out of bed and into the living room, heading straight for the tree. Shiny, wrapped presents sat under it, waiting for us. We tore through the wrapping paper to see what Ded Moroz, and his granddaughter, Snegurochka (Snow Maiden), had brought us. Then we set about playing with our new toys.

Sometimes, I wondered why we never put out a plate of cookies and a glass of milk for Santa. However, back then, there were plenty of suspicious differences between what my mom told me about him and what I saw on American TV.

No reindeer ever accompanied Ded Moroz, as he didn’t have a sleigh. He arrived at each house on foot, carrying his big bag of toys over his shoulder, and entered through the front door– not by sliding down the chimney.

The gifts inside his bag came into existence by magic. He didn’t have a shop in the North Pole, nor elves to work there.

My sister and I did write letters to Ded Moroz before New Year’s Eve about what we wanted, and of course he watched us all year to see if we were being good. But he didn’t keep a naughty or nice list.

Growing up, it was hard to explain my family’s holiday traditions to other children. We were Jewish, not Christian. But we still essentially celebrated Christmas– on New Year’s.

Honestly, I was ashamed of the “weird” way we celebrated. Why did it have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t we just be like everyone else?

But today I embrace our traditions. It’s fascinating to me how customs vary from country to country, and it’s even more interesting to think about the reasons for those changes.

I eventually learned that the difference in the day children receive presents from Santa is due to the history of state atheism in the Soviet Union. As many of us know, religion was strongly discouraged in Soviet Russia. In an attempt to rid the country of religion, Christmas traditions were simply moved to New Year’s.

Regardless of how this holiday hybrid came about, I plan to continue the Russian tradition of celebrating Christmas on New Year’s.