'Tis the season for Christmas regifting.

In that holiday spirit, I present a column that first ran in the very memorable year of 2001. It was headlined, "Not an Osmond Family Special but family is special on holiday."

I can't express what Christmas means to me any better.

The column needs a little updating.

Our Christmas Eve gathering is no longer at the old family home in Burien. Now it is held at my older brother's house-also in Burien.

I've joked that if Phil and Leona backed out on hosting duties and hid upstairs, the family would still break in and hold the celebration anyway. We know where they keep the serving spoons.

Leona informs me that it is closer to 35 family members who attend.

The age range has shrunk to between 74 and one. Our dad died five years ago. He would have been 100 this Christmas.

Girlfriends, boyfriends and spouses have continued to come and go.

My rocket-scientist nephew is now my patent-attorney nephew. His girlfriend has still agreed to marry him but she's a different girlfriend. She isn't easily intimidated, either.

As family traditions evolve over time, thankfully, they stay pretty much the same:

It's no Osmond Family Christmas Special.

The Christmas carol singing is often drowned out by the accordion accompaniment.

To music purists, that's a good thing.

But to my family that has gathered at the Mathison family home in Burien for as many Christmas Eves as I can remember, the quality of the music doesn't really matter.

And the noisy racket between songs, created by twenty-five or so family members crammed into a small living room with overflow in the dining area, just means we're all together again.

Ages range from 93 to two, as we are well into our fourth generation. My youngest son, Brian, attended his first Christmas Eve when he was four days old.

Countless girlfriends and boyfriends, as well as a few spouses, have come and gone through the years.

This year, we've been told the girlfriend of my rocket-scientist nephew survived last year's gathering and has agreed to marry into the family. It's always good to welcome in somebody who is not easily intimidated.

It started with the original seven-my dad, mom and their five children.

Many of the Christmas program traditions we organized as little kids have endured.

Don reads the Christmas story from the Bible. Phil plays the accordion. Steve is the master of ceremonies. Santa Eric passes out the gifts from under the tree.

And because, at age 10, I liked "Up on the Rooftop," I am dragged out in the middle of the circle with anybody else I can grab to sing the song-complete with all the hand gestures.

I have long since forgotten the words, so I need extensive sideline coaching from sister-in-law Leona, the retired elementary school teacher.

My late mother's favorite carol-"O Little Town of Bethlehem"-will always be the last song we sing before opening presents.

After the singing and gift exchange, we eat a few Christmas goodies before playing a raucous game of Trivial Pursuit.

This year's Christmas Eve will be especially bittersweet. It will be the last holiday celebration at the family home as old age is forcing my dad out of the house he built.

The Highline community is much more diverse than when the original seven moved into that house in 1951.

But I think family is at the heart of all the different ways we celebrate the holiday season.

So, I hope you are able to get together with your family to observe your holiday traditions.

Because, after this extraordinary year of the Des Moines murders, Nisqually earthquake and New York terrorist attacks, we sure need a little Christmas and a lot of family.