Chicken Little Awareness Day and One Family’s Tradition

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A family waving goodbye.If you’ve been living in America for any amount of time, you’ll know that we love random days celebrating our favorite things (giving us an excuse to honor and enjoy those things): Hot Dogs, Ice Cream, Wine. Apparently, April 9th is “Chicken Little Awareness Day.”

For most people, this day probably sounds questionable. Why might this folktale need “awareness?” And yet, for me and my family, it’s not the chicken that comes to mind but the goose.

Picture this: The final buckle snaps, and I start the engine. Amidst the usual car sounds–air vents blowing, windows whirring, crackling of gravel under tires–are the ear-splitting shouts of my two- and five-year-olds from the backseat. “GOOSEY LOOSEY!” they yell, a kooky catchphrase echoed by my parents, who stand on the edge of the driveway, waving furiously. These words are repeated over and over until the voices from the driveway get fainter and fainter and eventually disappear.

As a child, I found this family send-off positively magical. My mother would roll down the window, or my siblings and I would stand on our lawn as our cousins departed after a day of chaos and pasta. There was always an unspoken contest: whose voice was the loudest? Or carried farthest? 

As a teen, I found it utterly embarrassing. I would scrunch down farther into my seat, desperately trying to roll the window down, as my mom grinned, shouting louder and louder the farther we got from the house.

Growing up, I never thought much about the origins of our little ritual. I recently read the kids’ classic Henny Penny by Paul Galdone to my son before bed. We were a few pages in when Henny Penny, terrified that the sky is falling, meets up with the second animal in the story, Goosey Loosey. 

“Hey! That’s like what we say to Grandma, right, Mama?” he asked. Huh, that’s right. I knew it came from a book, but I had never really considered the idea that it was not a term used to say goodbye. And now that I thought about it why the goose? Henny Penny is the main character–why not shout her name at one another as we bid farewell? What about Turkey Lurkey? Or, better yet, could you imagine a bunch of children and adults shouting Cocky Lockey repeatedly down a quiet street? But for some reason, Goosey Loosey is the one that stuck.

The book itself is not one of my favorites. I’m confused as to why it has such a lasting imprint. And yet, it has stuck around; it has been retold, republished, and let’s face it, our copy is more than just a little worn out. Perhaps it’s the silliness itself that makes it such fun.

While reading the story with my son that night, I thought the mystery of our strange so-long salutation would be revealed. But nothing about the story suggests that “Goosey Loosey” would be a stand-in for goodbye. Even asking around doesn’t seem to turn up any answers. Oh, it’s what Uncle Mickey always said. As if that was explanation enough. 

Perhaps it’s the source himself that gave it its lasting power. Uncle Mickey was my grandfather’s little brother–he never married or had kids of his own–but he was the biggest kid in the family. Not unlike the book from which his salute is derived, Uncle Mickey was unquestionably silly and a bit of a mystery but always lots of fun. 

As a parent, I find our ritual entirely enchanting. I get in on the game, shouting louder and louder as we pull away from my parents’ house.

Now, I can see that this really is magic. There’s something in it about never wanting to part, to be together for as long as possible, to hold onto every last reverberation of each other’s voices even after we have long drifted from view. And it seems especially essential during this pandemic when each day it feels more and more like the sky is falling. 

“Goosey Loosey” doesn’t feel like a goodbye. There isn’t the same finality. It’s a parting, not an ending. I can imagine our voices traveling through space and time: I hear the echo of my five-year-old self shouting from my car seat, the rasp of my great aunt, my mother at forty, smiling wildly as she calls out the window, her eyes on the rearview mirror, the reflection of her children in the car and of her uncle waving from the lawn, his hands cupped around his mouth, a smile touching his lips: “Goosey Loosey!”

2 COMMENTS

  1. Silliness is fun and becoming a lost art! I love how you connect this term of endearment to reading the bedtime story and family ritual.

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