Writer Ari Shanahan argues for a greater group of good-luck animals in holiday traditions
Writer Ari Shanahan argues for a greater group of good-luck animals in holiday traditions
While there are few truths that span across America’s diverse lands and people, all Americans are united under the flag, the national anthem and the confusing array of non-religious holidays which weave together the nation’s fabric.
Of all the arbitrary American holidays, one date seems zanier than the rest — Groundhog Day.
To non-celebrators, Groundhog Day seems to be a strange, antiquated holiday left over from the 1800s. In a way, it’s true — the tradition’s American origins trace back to 1886 Pennsylvania, according to The Punxsutawney Groundhog Club.
Before the 21st century, farmers used the tradition to gauge when spring would come so they could plan their endeavors accordingly. In modern times, with advanced predictive meteorological science, the tradition seems long overdue to be uprooted in favor of newly-advanced AI algorithms.
In tow with luck-based superstitions, more animals are hopping in Phil’s footsteps. Before the U.S. presidential election, the pygmy hippopotamus Moo Deng was given a choice between Vice President Kamala Harris and President-elect Donald Trump — a choice made by eating food from a basket with the predicted winner’s name plastered on it.
Moo Deng accurately foretold the election results, eating from the basket of Trump.
Although major political events probably shouldn’t be determined by an illiterate four-month-old hippo in Thailand, why not lean into the critter causality in the whims of holiday bliss?
There’s something heartwarming about the superstition surrounding holidays, a game of chance hinging on the decisions of an animal. Humanity hides itself in Groundhog Day — and the choices of little Moo Deng. Despite having logic and data to predict the future, humankind still looks toward the natural world to soothe our anxieties.
In a world dominated by reason, it’s difficult to quell the anxieties of daily life with data alone. So why not turn to creaturely superstition to add a magical charm to life?
So turn to Groundhog Day — a bizarre, superstitious tradition — and exalt it for its ingenious dichotomy between the real and unreal. Building holidays on a foundation of chance might line the path to a radically joyful future.
As one suggestion, maybe revamp the Thanksgiving tradition of pulling the wishbone to be more animal friendly. Perhaps, if a turkey gobbles once, a home football team will win the day’s game — but if it gobbles twice, the game will go poorly.
Consider an election-themed tradition. If an elephant or a donkey is born closer to Election Day, the corresponding political party will win. There’s much fun to be had with fantasy in tradition, instead of just wallowing in anxiety alone.
With the ever-unpredictable seasonal change, a new Chicagoan tradition could aid in predicting winter’s first snow. A white, Chicago-born rabbit could be placed on the Red Line, with stops marked for weeks of the winter, and whichever stop the bunny decides to exit will determine the snowfall.
The Loyola community could even take up a lucky tradition. Two marked squirrels, one for a good outcome and one for a bad, could race across the quad, and whichever reaches the IC first will determine the luck for finals season.
This idea may be childish in nature, but as modernity demands a rigid standard of factual thought, it might not hurt to indulge in childish, chance-based activities.
Although it might be seen as playing pretend or putting weight on luck, traditions shouldn’t be forgotten as the world delves deeper into the sea of technology. Create your own unreal — celebrate small holidays and craft goodness in the world only you can see. Maybe, like Punxsutawney Phil predicting the spring, there will be good fortune in store.