Tag Archives: family

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.

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.

Piñata

Text:

“Whenever there’s a kids birthday party, we get a piñata with candy in it and have the kids strike it down to get candy. So a piñata gets hung up and one of the adults swings it around as kids try to bring it down with a stick. The kids take turns starting from youngest to oldest, with the idea being that they don’t want the piñata to break too quickly, so the older kids who are most likely to break it go last. Once the piñata breaks, everyone runs up to the candy and grabs them.

Context:

The informant simply participated in this as a kid, and learned that this is something that just happens at birthday parties, and is something to look forward to.

Interpretation:

The piñata plays a central role in gatherings such as posadas, birthdays, and other social events. The communal act of breaking the piñata—surrounded by singing, cheering, and sharing treats—encourages group participation and the sharing of joy/laughter. This reflects the highly valued concept of communitas, interdependence, and festivity with those close to you. Furthermore, a child’s birthday is not seen as a quiet, private event, but something to be shared with the whole community to experience.

I find it interesting that although the piñata originated in Latin America, it spread to other cultures around it. For example, I personally did not grow up in a Hispanic or Latin household; however, I distinctly remember going to other people’s(also non-Hispanic) birthday parties and breaking the piñata, as well as having a piñata at one of my own birthday parties. I feel like this is a prime example of how a culture can travel, and have other cultures adapt aspects of it while also sprinkling some of their own traditions.

Folk Belief: Sharing Food with a Pregnant Woman

Age: 24
Occupation: Paraprofessional

[Do you have anything you would like to share?]

‘I do remember this superstition my family had when I was younger. It was like we couldn’t share food with a pregnant woman. Like if they ate from a bowl and offered it to us, we could accept the bowl but we weren’t supposed it eat it.”

[Was it for the health of the mother? Or seen as bad luck?]

“It was like, you know how pregnant people get morning sickness? It was like you would get the morning sickness. I remember when I was younger, being with family, and my mother telling me not to eat from the same bowl as one of my aunts. I did anyway, and I actually ended up throwing up later that night.”

Analysis: I think that this superstition is unique in the sense that I think most folklore surrounding pregnancy has to do with the health of the mother or protecting/ promoting fertility, so having a folk belief surrounding how the health of a pregnant person could impact others is really interesting. Additionally, morning sickness here is treated less as a symptom and more as a contagious sickness, which I never really considered.