Category Archives: Holidays

Holidays and holiday traditions

Christmas Crowns, Cracker Jokes, and “Reindeer Poop”

Word of Mouth From my Mother

If you didn’t notice son, Christmas is a carefully choreographed tradition–I like to think of it as a mix of cozy ritual, a bit of British custom, and some parental magic. Every year, we manage to host your aunts, uncles, grandparents, and family friends under one roof, crowding them around a long dinner table for a meal that never changes: your father’s signature roast, buttery potatoes, and whatever else[she talked about as these dishes seeming to appear out of nowhere but feeling like they’ve always belonged]…

…You remember the main custom, before the meal begins, we all pop Christmas crackers, wear the paper crowns, and tell the corny jokes or trivia questions. Everyone has to wear their crown, no exceptions. [Something of a silent rule.] Inevitably, [Uncle name] brings the energy to the meal as he tries to guess the answer to someone else’s riddle before they finish reading it. It’s chaotic, silly, and comforting–exactly how it’s supposed to be…

…Remember on Christmas eve, we’d leave out a plate of cookies and a glass of milk for Santa, and you and your sister would go to bed, your father and I would leave out a few wrinkled dates in the front yard as “reindeer poop.” We’d also make sure that before Every Christmas morning, no matter how old you two[me and my sister] got, the milk would be half-drunk, the cookies nibbled, and the dates scattered. Even now, when you all know the “truth,” we still put the plate and dates out. It’s tradition…

Context

I interviewed my mom about our family’s Christmas rituals, and she lit up almost immediately. “It’s the one time of year when everyone is just… there,” she said. For her, Christmas was always about creating a sense of continuity–blending traditions from her own childhood with the new ones she and my dad created when we were young. The paper crowns and Christmas crackers come from my dad’s British side of the family, and they’ve been part of every holiday she can remember. “You can’t not wear the crown. It’s just part of the meal,” she joked.

She described how she and my dad would take turns arranging the Santa plate late at night–taking a careful bite of the cookies, sipping the milk just right, and tossing a few dates in the yard to complete the illusion.

These rituals weren’t grand or showy, but they were performed with deep consistency. Even now, with the kids grown, my parents still go through the motions–not because we believe, but because we remember.

Analysis

This Christmas tradition is an excellent example of domestic folklore: habitual, symbolic acts carried out within the family to affirm identity, belonging, and memory. While none of the individual actions–crackers, roast, Santa plates–are unique on their own, the specific combination of these elements, repeated year after year, becomes a form of narrative performance that binds the family together.

The Christmas crackers and paper crowns reflect a cultural carryover from British holiday customs, adapted into the family’s American context. They serve as both props and prompts–each one delivering not just a joke but a shared experience. The insistence on everyone wearing the crowns transforms a simple object into a badge of belonging, and the ritualized groaning at jokes adds a performative dimension to the meal.

The Santa cookies and “reindeer poop” represent another key aspect of holiday folklore: magical realism within childhood belief systems. These actions deliberately blur the line between fiction and reality, giving children something to believe in while also offering parents a way to perform care and wonder. Even as belief fades, the actions remain–now functioning not as proof of Santa, but as proof of love and continuity.

In this sense, the tradition has matured alongside the family: once a tool of imagination, it now functions as a nostalgic ritual that reaffirms connection across time. The ongoing performance of the Santa plate–even when no one is fooled–embodies the essence of folklore: shared meaning enacted again and again, not because we need to believe, but because we want to remember. It’s part of the ties that bind our family together and I will definitely continue this tradition–if not add onto it–with my own kids when the time comes.

Día de Los Reyes Magos (Three Kings Day)

Transcript of Interview with my Informant:

Each year on January 6th, my family celebrates Día de Los Reyes Magos, or Three Kings Day, a tradition with roots in Catholic faith and Hispanic culture. The story goes that Melchor, Gaspar, and Balthasar–guided by the star of Bethlehem–brought gifts to the newborn Jesus. In honor of this event, our family gathers at someone’s home (sometimes mine) and shares a special sweet bread called Rosca de Reyes. The bread is circular, topped with colorful dried fruit, and contains hidden figurines of baby Jesus inside.

During the celebration, each family cuts a slice of the Rosca. If someone finds a figurine inside their piece, they’re “chosen” to host a gathering later in the year–symbolizing both a blessing and a responsibility. It’s a mix of excitement and groaning laughter when someone finds one; some are honored, others jokingly curse their luck.

On the night before, January 5th, children place a shoe near the door or under the Christmas tree, awaiting small gifts from the Three Kings by morning–just as kids do with Santa Claus on Christmas. While we’ve adapted parts of the tradition for our life in the U.S., the essence remains: a celebration of faith, family, and culture that marks both the joy of giving and the hope of a new year.

Context:

My informant first became aware of the significance of Día de Los Reyes Magos as a child, but admitted they didn’t initially recognize it as a distinct or formal “tradition.” Growing up in a Hispanic family in the U.S., the celebration felt like an extension of everyday life–something “normal,” even if classmates or neighbors didn’t understand it. The ritual of gathering around the Rosca and the playful suspense of finding the baby Jesus figurine stood out as moments of connection and community.

Celebrations would rotate between family members’ homes, often becoming larger events when someone “won” the figurine. These gatherings served not just as cultural practice, but also as a form of reunion–bringing relatives together after the holidays for one more festive moment. The act of putting out a shoe for gifts was a quiet, joyful echo of Christmas traditions, but with its own spiritual undertone tied to the biblical Magi.

The informant noted that these rituals, though modest in scale compared to holidays like Christmas, carry a different kind of emotional weight. They blend the sacred with the familial, and even the humorous–like the yearly joking dread of having to host the next party. Though they didn’t see their upbringing as “filled with traditions” at first, reflecting on this holiday made them realize how layered and meaningful these recurring events are.

Analysis:

The Día de Los Reyes Magos tradition functions as a cultural bridge, connecting the informant’s Hispanic heritage with their life in the United States. Like many diasporic traditions, it has been adapted to new social contexts–reshaped by work schedules, school calendars, and community life–yet remains firmly rooted in Catholic ritual and familial bonds.

The act of sharing the Rosca de Reyes and discovering the baby figurine exemplifies how folklore can use food as both a symbolic and functional tool. The bread becomes more than a treat–it’s a ritual object, one that assigns roles (the future host), invites storytelling, and reinforces familial obligations through humor and fate. In this way, the tradition embodies both luck and labor: blessings that come with responsibilities, just as faith comes with commitment.

Furthermore, the informant’s reflection illustrates the invisible ubiquity of folk practices–how traditions can be so woven into daily life that their significance is only recognized when viewed from outside or upon reflection. The use of shoes to receive gifts also echoes other folk traditions (like Dutch Sinterklaas or Saint Nicholas Day), showing the shared human impulse to mythologize generosity and moral reward during midwinter festivals.

Ultimately, this tradition is not just about religious observance. It is about identity–how faith, food, family, and folklore sustain cultural memory and offer moments of grounding and joy in the midst of American life. It’s a celebration not just of the Three Kings, but of the endurance of heritage in a changing world.

La Mordida

Nationality: Mexican American
Age: 21
Occupation: Student
Residence: San Francisco
Language: Spanish and English

Text: “In my family, when it’s your birthday, everyone sings the ‘Happy Birthday’ song and then starts shouting, ‘¡Mordida! ¡Mordida!,’ which means bite. That’s when you are supposed to take the first bite of cake, but you are not allowed to use your hands. And as you are leaning in to take the bite, someone, usually my dad, shoves your face into the cake. Sure, it’s messy and your makeup gets ruined, but you’ve grown up with it, so you expect it. You can’t get mad at it; it’s tradition.”

Context: My informant told me this about this life cycle ritual, which is something her family does at every birthday celebration, no matter the age of the person. Even if you are turning 1 year or 90 years old. She first experienced it when she turned 1, and she can’t remember, but there is photo evidence of it. She recalls her first memory of it being around five years old, and her older brother did it to her. She emphasized that while it can be a surprise, it’s not seen as mean or rude. Instead, it’s a sign of affection. She associates this tradition with joy, family bonding, and humor. 

She learned this tradition from her parents and grandparents, who grew up practicing it in Mexico. Getting your face smashed into the cake is a larger constellation of birthday customs that include singing “Las Mañanitas” and having a piñata.

Interpretation: La Mordida is a playful, semi-ritualized disruption of a special moment. While it may appear aggressive to outsiders, the act of smashing someone’s face into a birthday cake works as an affectionate hazing, signaling inclusion into the family and community. It shows us the values of humor, resilience, and shared experience that are important in Mexican and Mexican American family structures. 

The word “mordida” literally means “bite,” but in this context, it’s a rite of passage. Taking a bite that isn’t graceful but instead messy is both funny and intimate. It shows there is a deep cultural heritage to younger generations through memories. They don’t watch the tradition; they experience it; they feel it on their faces.

Día de los Muertos

Nationality: Mexican American
Occupation: Teacher
Residence: Nevada
Language: Spanish and English

Text: “Every year for Día de los Muertos, my family sets up an ofrenda in the living room. We put up photos of all our loved ones who have passed away, even including our pets. Alongside, we also include marigolds, sugar skulls, pan de muerto, water, and their favorite foods. Pan de muerto is always a must to add to an ofrenda, it’s a sweet bread with bone-shaped decorations on top. For my grandfather, we always put out a can of Coke, a pack of cigarettes, and juicy fruit gum. My mother also believes in leaving a cup of water for every passed loved one since the journey to get back to Earth is a long one, and they are probably thirsty.” 

Context: My informant is Mexican-American and grew up in Los Angeles. Since she can remember, she has always participated in Día de los Muertos, and now, since she is older, she helps organize the family’s annual ofrenda. Her mother is from Oaxaca and takes the tradition very seriously. The ritual is a mix of sad and beautiful, but gives her a sense of connection to family members she never got to meet or ones she misses. The ofrenda is the emotional center of the celebration, but pan de muerto is the food associated with the holiday. 

Interpretation: The ofrenda ritual for Día de los Muertos represents a profound fusion of indigenous Mesoamerican beliefs as well as Catholic practices. The ofrenda acts as both a physical and spiritual portal, in order to welcome the dead, but also to unite the community through shared memory and tradition. This tradition emphasizes the circle of life and how death is not the end but a recurring part of life that invites return, celebration, and remembrance. Eating pan de muerto together turns the experience from commemoration to communion, where the past is not mourned.

Las Posadas

Nationality: Mexican American
Age: 23
Occupation: Supervisor
Residence: Los Angeles
Language: English and Spanish

Text: “Every December, my family would take a trip to Jalisco, Mexico, from where we are from. For nine nights starting from the 16th to the 24th, we do Las Posadas. It starts with a procession, where kids and adults carry candles, sing songs, and walk from house to house, asking for shelter just like Mary and Joseph did. At each house, they will deny us entry until we get to the last house, and we all gather to pray, sing more songs, and eat food like tamales and pan dulce. The last night is the biggest; there’s a piñata usually shaped like a star and a lot of fireworks and kids running around playing games.” 

Context: My informant told me about this ritual that she does every year. As a kid, she started participating, dressing up as an angel, but now she helps her mom organize the singing and food. Las Posadas are elaborate with actors for Mary and Joseph and scripted songs. 

Interpretation: Las Posadas is a ritual that transforms sacred narrative into a performance. This ritual is rooted in Catholic tradition but shaped by local Mexican customs; it reenacts Mary and Joseph’s search for lodging as a form of communal empathy. The nine nights reflect both religious devotion and a buildup of community. The use of candles, song, food, and movement through space blends sensory experience with spiritual meaning, making the tradition memorable and multi-generational. The piñata is in the shape of a star, ties religious symbolism, and is indigenous.