Superstitious Minds

If you accidentally spill some salt, do you discreetly throw a pinch over your shoulder? Or perhaps you forward those ubiquitous good luck angel emails to ten of your “closest” friends, just in case. And what about those cracks in the sidewalk… just how is your mother’s back, anyway?

It seems to me that more people suffer from the repetitive and bizarre affliction of superstition than not, but I have to admit that at times I am as guilty as most. However of late I’ve become interested in how these beliefs come about. But rather than do real scholarly research — who has the time and truthfully, I’m just too lazy for that — I have arrived at my own theory: that many of these old traditions are based on simple practicalities. They were a way of instilling sensible behaviors early on in life.

For instance, my Puerto Rican aunt told me you should never place your pocketbook on the floor. “The money will flow out,” was her belief. I considered what might be behind this one. There is the issue of being sanitary: a purse that’s been on the floor will be carrying all sorts of germs on its bottom. But then there is also the safety issue. I know this isn’t as much an issue in Vermont, but if you consider the crime rate in Puerto Rico, a purse on the floor is not a good idea in general, at least in a public place.

“Ay Annie, when you leave the house, you can’t go back in if you forgot something! It’s mala suerte!” My friend Jane admonished me in hushed and reverent tones. Okay, this one completely baffles me, because if I were to take this to heart, I would never have anything I need and my life would be chaos (well, at least more chaotic than it already is). I have to go back at least once, EVERY SINGLE TIME I leave the house. I mean, really! Was the person who invented this one a mother? I don’t think so! Anyway, I thought the history of this one might also be safety. Going back through your door opens you up for someone to follow.

Never put shoes on the bed. Again, this begs the interpretation of a plea of unsanitary. Lord only knows where those soles have been anyway, and I can’t imagine you’d want remnants of it on the bed.

Article Author: Ann Hagman Cardinal

Ann Hagman Cardinal is a freelance writer as well as the Marketing Director for Vermont Collge of Fine Arts. Her first novel, Sister Chicas--co-authored with two other Latina writers—was released in 2006 by NAL/Penguin Books. …

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