Author Archives: Bridgette Boggs

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

Main piece: When in times of great stress or excitement, one will exclaim, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

Context: The informant is half Irish and half American. Her mother’s side of the family is originally from and still resides in Atlanta, Georgia. Her paternal extended family live in Sligo, Ireland. She grew up culturally Catholic, but she does not consider herself religious. Our conversation took place in February on my couch at home in Atlanta after she began recounting her recent trip to visit family in Ireland. The informant first heard this exclamation-prayer from her Catholic family in Ireland, specifically her great-aunt, as they constantly use it all day everyday. Because the informant is not religious, she sometimes grows uncomfortable with overuse of it in casual conversation as it is a constant reminder of how she’s quite different from the rest of her family in terms of spiritual and moral beliefs. The prayer has stuck with her because of how different it is from American exclamations; when one of her visiting extended family members comes to the U.S., “JMJ” highlights their “otherness.”

Personal thoughts: Upon first read, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” may not seem like a prayer at all, but rather an explanation. However, whenever someone is exclaiming these words, they are either a) asking for help in a time of stress, or b) giving thanks for something unexpected/exciting happening, which are really the two key functions of prayers. What’s nice about the JMJ prayer is that it’s more modern in the sense that its text is shorter in length, and therefore more palatable and digestible to the average, on-the-go American. Out with traditional words and rituals, and in with quick, trendy expressions that double as prayers! JMJ is also interesting because it offers a sly alternative to taking the Lord’s name directly in vain, which devout Christians tend to avoid on the basis of their faith. By exclaiming, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”, you’re invoking powerful names in the bible, but you’re not directly saying “Oh, my God.” It’s a barely-there distinction, since Jesus is considered synonymous with the Lord in many ways, but the inclusion of Joseph and Mary somewhat soften the bite of taking Jesus’s name in vain. And by the time you reach the end of the phrase and have named all three, your local Catholic mother might’ve forgotten you even mentioned Jesus in the first place.

Pierogi Recipe

Main piece: Place potatoes in a saucepan and cover with water. Heat to boiling and simmer until potatoes are very tender. Drain potatoes, reserving 1 cup of the liquid. In a small, non-stick frying pan, sauté onions in a little butter or oil until soft. Add onions to drained potatoes and mash using a potato masher or electric hand mixer. (Add reserved potato cooking water as needed to reach a smooth mashed potato consistency.) Add cheese, garlic, and salt. Mix well. Set aside to cool. Serve with cabbage and/or potato salad.

Context: The informant (BB) grew up in Schlesien (Silesia), Germany and immigrated to the United States when she was 24 in August 1960. BB and her husband, who was from East Prussia (now known as a territory in Poland), started a family of 3 children in Orlando, Florida, and ran a greenhouse business until their retirement. BB is a devout Christian with Lutheran roots. She is fluent in both German and English. Our conversation took place by the fireplace in my home in Atlanta. The informant learned of this dish from her mother-in-law; she is not Prussian herself, but she learned the recipe to honor her husband’s family tradition of eating pierogi at Christmas. BB loves pierogi because she is proud of embracing a tradition she did not grow up with but is nevertheless very important to BB, as it reminds her of her late husband. BB even adapted the recipe for her growing family in America. Although the original recipe dictates that the “filling” portion of pierogi be stuffed into dough and boiled, BB does not use dough at all in her recipe and instead opts to make pierogi as an open dish, often with potato salad on the side. She put this spin on the recipe because not everybody necessarily likes the dough and she can’t fit as much of the filling as she would like to into a dough pocket. Because of this, she’s able to make the pierogi in bulk so that it can feed a family for a week down the line.

Personal thoughts: What is perhaps most interesting about this particular recipe is the way the informant adapted it – and why. BB mentioned taking away the dough and to be able to make pierogi in bulk. As a young child growing up poor in World War II Germany, BB barely had enough to eat each day, as her community was forced to send the food they produced to the Nazis supporting the war effort. Hunger playing a significant role in her upbringing is evident in the fact that she has 2 refrigerators and 2 pantries in her house that are always stocked full of provisions. So, when BB makes pierogi in bulk, her motivations are not gluttonous or greedy; rather, they stem from an unshakeable, foundational feeling that she must ensure her and her family’s next meal in case of any unforeseen circumstances. Therefore, BB’s adaptation of the traditional pierogi recipe is a product of her childhood circumstances of WW2 scarcity.

The Irish Black Dog

Main piece: “The black dog is death.”

Context: The informant is half Irish and half American. Her mother’s side of the family is originally from and still resides in Atlanta, Georgia. Her paternal extended family live in Sligo, Ireland. She grew up culturally Catholic, but she does not consider herself religious. Our conversation took place in February on my couch at home in Atlanta after she began recounting her recent trip to visit family in Ireland. The informant originally heard this saying from her aunt, who recounted a story in which she was attacked by a black dog spirit that jumped on her back in the middle of the night. Her aunt caught a glimpse of the creature over her shoulder, but when she threw the dog off and turned around, it was gone. The phrase “the black dog is death” was already well-known among the informant’s family at the time, but what makes this story even more unsettling is that shortly before the black dog appeared to her aunt, a bog body was found on the family’s property. So, while the informant isn’t a necessarily spiritual or superstitious person, she does somewhat buy into the black dog death spirit, as she describes the impact-fulness of her aunt “trembling” and looking “haunted” whenever she recounted the story. Interestingly, the informant does not believe that the would ever personally encounter the black dog, as she isn’t as in-tune with the spiritual world, but she still maintains: “I’m really glad the black dog didn’t visit me.”

Personal thoughts: The informant’s mindset that part of encountering the stuff of legends is simply buying into them is particularly interesting to me; she simultaneously validates her aunt’s experiences while doubting that she could experience the same, which speaks to the potential placebo effect that folk beliefs have on people. Just because doubt could easily be lent to the details of the story does not mean that the experience itself did not occur. There is no way of knowing what exactly happened to BN’s aunt, but her story and BN’s subsequent reaction to it indicates that belief itself can be more powerful than absolute truth. Additionally, the wording of the proverb “the black dog is death” does not communicate that the appearance of a black dog heralds death, but rather that the black dog is death itself. Perhaps by giving the abstract concept of death a knowable, mortal form, the people of Ireland can feel a little more control over their own mortality. To mold death into a dog opens up the possibility of training death like you would train your own pet, and therefore conquering the unconquerable.

Banshees

Main piece: It is said that the howling winds of the Irish coast are formed from the screams of women suffering and dying – otherwise known as banshees. Therefore, any time you hear a particularly loud or chilling gust of wind, a woman is in agony somewhere.

Context: The informant (BN) is half Irish and half American. Her mother’s side of the family is originally from and still resides in Atlanta, Georgia. Her paternal extended family live in Sligo, Ireland. She grew up culturally Catholic, but she does not consider herself religious. Our conversation took place in February on my couch at home in Atlanta after she began recounting her recent trip to visit family in Ireland. BN originally heard this myth that explains Ireland’s winds from her cousin and godmother, who both reside on the coast of Ireland. As she told me about banshee winds, she visibly sunk in on herself and god chills multiple times. “Those winds will always be branded into my memory, because it’s kind of traumatizing as a child, since they really do sound like screams.” When asked if she believed in the myth in a literal sense, she said that only when she’s in Ireland does she truly believe: “everything in Ireland is just so magical and ancient.”

Personal thoughts: What I find most intriguing about this myth is that it touts the age-old trope of a woman’s suffering becoming immortalized through nature or supernatural occurrences. It is not difficult to realize that you don’t see many folk tales, legends or myths that emphasize male suffering – rather, male-centric stories tend to be about heroism or strife that is overcome through perseverance. Women, however, are historically known for subjugation and suffering, which is perhaps why when people first heard the harsh winds of Ireland, they thought of a dying woman rather than a dying animal, a shrieking child, or even just harsh weather at face value. Additionally, what makes the banshee wind myth of Ireland a myth is that it seeks to explain a very prominent and ancient natural phenomenon in Ireland with a concept we are familiar with: female suffering. For external reference of this myth, see “THE BANSHEE.” The Louisville Daily Journal (1839-1868), Nov 25 1839, p. 2. ProQuest. Web. 18 Apr. 2019 .

Chuita

Main Piece: The informant’s grandmother, whom many call Chuita, was a midwife and hero in the small town of Caazapa, Paraguay. Chuita only went to school up 1st grade (a very baseline education) and, instead of becoming a nun and living in a convent, she asked her aunt about how she could help the town. Learning under her aunt and looking at her own vagina in the mirror, Chuita learned female anatomy and became the town’s resident midwife, as the nearest hospital was miles and miles away. Using herbal medicine, she delivered over 600 babies without fail in her lifetime, never accepting any form of payment from the poor mothers she helped. “She literally delivered a whole town.” Later, Chuita received an honorary degree from National Health Ministry of Paraguay for having safely delivered more than 300 children during here life in Caazapa, but these were cases that were traced and recorded. “Chuita knows that she delivered well over 600 babies, never losing one. She had an extraordinary faith that her purpose was to serve others through God.” By the end of her lifetime, she was the town’s carpenter, farmer, engineer, civil advocate, emergency first responder, policeman, welfare service provider, tailor, chef, and household organizer. Her and her husband were often considered to be the local king and queen of their town.

Context: The informant (OC) is half Paraguayan and half American, and she speaks both Spanish and English. Her mother immigrated to the U.S. as a young adult, so the informant is first generation, but the rest of her mother’s side of the family resides in their home city – Caazapa, Paraguay – and are very well-known in their community. Her father’s side of the family are “classically Jewish” people from Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, New York. Although she is not religious herself, her upbringing was culturally Jewish and Catholic. Our discussion took place in her home in Orlando, Florida while her mom made us tea and lunch in the background. The informant cites the following legend as the basis for her family’s legacy today, with her larger-than-life grandmother being their small Paraguayan town’s hero. This story was recounted to OC at her high school graduation party from her cousin, who believed that the informant was of age to learn of her roots and the lore that has kept their family devout in their values of hard work and faith. This legend is the basis of the matriarchal power that has been passed down through each generation in OC’s family. In fact, this story served as the inspiration of OC’s tattoo over her ribs, which depicts the mountains bordering Caazapa to honor her roots and larger-than-life abuela.

Personal thoughts: While it’s clear that not all of the astounding facets of this iconic grandma cannot be proven to be true (i.e. the 300 recorded vs. 600 theoretical babies delivered), this legend is rooted in the firm truth of her widely-known feats. The way OC tells this story is reminiscent of ancient legends with a heroic character conquering the impossible; one woman with barely any education becomes her town’s jack-of-all-trades through learning from the little resources she had access to (her aunt, who was her mentor, and her own mirror).Even the way OC phrases her grandmother as the town’s “queen” demonstrates her hero status among her people. Chuita, in typical hero fashion, overcomes her circumstances without complaint and rises to the occasion, setting a legacy of matriarchy and the power of perseverance for her family and town.