Why do we let our kids beat up cute-faced avocados and pink unicorn piñatas with a bat? Think about it, it’s really deranged.
This came up as I was preparing for our upcoming community garden event. I want to make a themed piñata (no spoiler alert). Talking with my friends, I said, “Well, it has to have a face—otherwise it will be boring.” After a few minutes of debate, I switched sides. Yeah… this is totally wrong. It basically promotes the subconscious idea that violence toward humans and animals is fun and acceptable. Heavy, I know.
And yet, here we are, joyfully smashing smiling dinosaurs stuffed with Snickers and Skittles at birthday parties across the United States. How did we get here?
Statue of a Franciscan friar hitting a piñata in Acolman, Mexico State. Source Wikipedia
The history of the piñata is a long evolution through many different cultures. I will try to briefly summarize this fascinating journey:
The piñata originated in China for the Chinese New Year in the 13th century. Figures shaped like cows or oxen were covered in colored paper and decorated. The people would strike them with sticks, spilling seeds, symbolizing abundance. The remains were burned, and people collected the ashes for good luck. So far wholesome.
Marco Polo brought the Chinese piñata tradition to Europe in the 14th century, where it was adopted by Christians and associated with Lent as “Piñata Sunday.” The word comes from the Italian pignatta, meaning “fragile pot.” Early piñatas looked like clay water jars, which some say inspired the pineapple shape. The Latin piña also hints at pineapples or pine cones.
When the piñata custom drops in Spain, the first Sunday of Lent turns into the “Dance of the Piñata.” Later, Spanish missionaries brought it to Mexico, and interestingly, the Aztecs and Mayans already had their own clay-pot traditions tied to gods, offerings, and games. The missionaries just rebranded it with colored paper for religious teachings of god and evil.
And here’s where it gets dark. The decorated clay pot—called a cantaro- was said to symbolize Satan, all dressed up to lure us in. The classic piñata, with its seven spiky points, stood for the seven deadly sins: greed, gluttony, sloth, pride, envy, wrath, and lust. Bright and beautiful on the outside, it tempted us, while the candies and fruit inside symbolized earthly pleasures. Yes, you will never look at a pinata in the same way.
The blindfold stood for faith “fe” which must be blind. Players were spun (sometimes 33 times for Christ’s years) to throw off their sense of space before taking a swing. The act of beating the piñata was denouncing evil. And the reward for rejecting Satan in this way was then the bounty inside.
Today we just beat piñatas for fun! It’s all candy and birthday hats, but one may argue that we’re anthropomorphizing papier-mâché animals, princesses, and cute foods by slapping on a face and then smacking it with a plastic bat until it dies. Hmmm. Next time you’re planning that 7-year-old’s birthday, maybe go with a faceless piñata? Still fun, just a little less nightmare vibe.
Source.
No face!
Potato Fest 2025 is Saturday, Oct. 11, 12–4 pm, at the Beach 91st Street Community Garden. This community event is a joyful celebration of the beloved root vegetable—and a chance to get together with friends and neighbors in the garden to share a meal of (mostly) potatoes. The dishes are home-cooked by community volunteers—thank you to everyone cooking!!
Expect hands-on, potato-inspired fun and activities: a hot potato showdown, a potato art craft, a Mr. and Ms. Potato Head play corner, and an education station to explore the fascinating journey of the potato through history.
The soundtrack is a mash-up— flutist Danielle Hanna (@louise_0405), vocalist Erin Moon (@erinmoonmusic) and Mikal Hameed (@rebaroque) keeping the beats sweet in between. I asked each musician to share about their work:
Re Baroque, it makes art you look at and listen to. Mikal Hameed’s large-scale, high-design works fuse visual art, music history, and modern furniture into functional mixed-media sculptures that restore music to a shared, out-loud experience.
Born to musicians, Hameed grew up immersed in sound. His father, Young Jessie, was a jazz/rock/R&B singer-songwriter who recorded the original “Mary Lou,” later covered by Steve Miller Band, Bob Seger, and Frank Zappa. His mother, Barbara Jean Prince, was also a musician; they met gigging. His uncle’s group, Otis Day and the Knights, appeared in the 1978 film Animal House. Preserving the communal joy of music is baked into his DNA.
Raised in South Central Los Angeles, Hameed’s creative path ran from graffiti and punk bands to spoken word, taking him to the Apollo Theater in 1999. He soon moved to Brooklyn and built a production-design career on music videos for clients including Jay-Z, Mike Myers, Moby, Sting, and Liza Minnelli.
In the hip-hop tradition of remix, Hameed reworks cultural hardware—iconic boomboxes, DJ turntables—into new forms with new purpose. His powered speaker sculptures invite audience participation, transforming viewers into listeners and making sound a public, collective event.
Rockaway native Danielle Hanna is a flutist, saxophonist, and composer based in Queens. She is currently pursuing her B.Mus. in Music Education and Composition at the Conservatory of Music at Brooklyn College, also in the Macaulay Honors program, where she was awarded a full-tuition scholarship. As an undergraduate, Danielle has performed in various Brooklyn College ensembles, such as the Wind Ensemble, Orchestra, and the Brooklyn College Musical Theater Collective. She was involved in the Macaulay Theater Club, where she served as Music Director/Conductor for its fall production of “Bells Are Ringing” (2024), and she is president of the award-winning Macaulay Musicians’ Collective. Recently, her work “Mood Meter” for piano quintet was performed by Conservatory students at the Winter Composers Concert (2025), and her newest piece, “Dust & Moonlight” for flute and piano, was performed at the May Composers Concert (2025).
Erin DeBarber (Erin Moon) is a musician, carpenter, community organizer, and mixed media artist based in Franklin, Maine. Her music is rooted in storytelling and transformation, exploring themes of love, depression, resilience, and relocation. Blending indie folk with shades of space rock, Erin’s lo-fi sound is anchored by clever lyrics, raw emotion, and melodies that linger.
Her conversational style invites listeners into her world… as she uses songwriting to make sense of the world and life’s changes and contradictions.
Erin began writing music during the pandemic and embraces the joy of being an adult beginner. In 2022, she left a career in advertising, moved to Maine, and bought a fixer-upper cabin in a coastal town. After studying carpentry, she now works full time as a house painter and builder, keeping her hands busy and her mind free to focus on music.
We have a wonderful day planned for everyone. I hope to see you in the Garden this Saturday! Bring your friends, bring your appetite, and bring your love of potatoes! This is a free event. All are welcome at Potato Fest 2025!
Far from a quiver, yet I need to let everyone know that I now have a Dewey Weber Professional, 9’2.” My second board! Thank you, Kristeli! My friend and previous rider of the vintage classic called the board “The Fairy” for its beautiful, pastel, and cream waves in the glassing. A new nickname has come about for me, though — Big Mamma. I’m a small person, and she is a big board! My mid-length is an 8’6” Faktion. The extra 8 inches of length and heavy fiberglass are a whole lot more board to carry to the beach and maneuver in the water.
“With his trademark red trunks, platinum blond hair, and a definite attitude, Dewey defined the archetype of the Southern California surfer.” —Drew Kampion, Surfing Magazine, Image source: @deweywebersurf
I’m happy to say, so far, so good! She glides on those glassy waist-high waves and feels amazing. The board’s square tail feels stable and ideal for the Rockaway summer ankle-slappers. The learning curve has been mostly about nose-diving and trying to find my sweet spot on the board—where to place my chest as I’m paddling for a wave. I’m finding the board a bit hard to turn once I’m up, but hey, I’m up! My friends in the water say this is a normal challenge when adjusting to a longboard. And this makes sense with my little nose-dive prob. I’m told if I pop up and turn right away, instead of going straight for a few seconds, it will help. Eating it on a 9’2” has more consequences than on a smaller board, so I’m practicing this.
The Dewey Weber Professional was first released in 1968, and production stopped on this hand-shaped noserider in 1988. My feeling, based on the color styling and dings, is that my board has gone through some incarnations and it’s a later model. You can’t see the stringer, and one of the logos seems to have been removed for a repair and then glassed back on. This board has lived some lives, for sure. I like the mystery she holds. sequence, one wave at a time.
“It’s nice to see a Dewey Weber in the water.” My friend mentioned the board might attract some attention from the older gentlemen in the lineup. After a quick chat with one of these dudes, I realized I need to do my homework on Dewey Weber. I can’t ride a classic and not know about the shaper.
I hit the books—starting with deweyweber.com—where I first learned about Dewey Weber’s legendary innovations in board design.
“He was the first surfboard manufacturer to give a model name (i.e., Performer) to designate a particular surfboard design. Dewey revolutionized surfing with the first ‘cutaway’ fin (the infamous hatchet fin), the introduction of the first removable fin unit, and his implementation of the first ‘milling’ machine, which was the forerunner of computer-assisted design. He screen-printed his logo on one of the first colored T-shirts made by Towncraft.”
A little more surfing the net, and I learned that Dewey Weber defined a new, unique, flashy style of longboard surfing, earning his place as a surfing icon—“The Little Man on Wheels.” He was an athlete, a champion yo-yo player, and a wildly successful businessman. He was a drinker. And after personal losses and a major surfing injury, his course changed. Dewey passed away at the young age of 54 in 1993. He left behind a legacy that keeps getting rediscovered by new surfers like me.
What started in 1968 somehow ended up under my feet. That’s surfing. That’s the soul. Three years in, and I’m still counting…
Instagram
Now that I’ve had a bit of time to process the past few months, I’m ready to share that I started a new job at the Department of Education, and it’s been a major shift. The opportunity came up, and it was supposed to be “easy”—out by 3 pm, all the holidays, and allow me time to still work as a graphic designer. It provides supplemental income, stability, and health insurance. The last few years of chasing freelance checks, unable to find a full-time job, the mortgage, and all the life things were just too much.
I started on March 10th. I’m a Family Associate, supporting the school psychologists with Individual Education Programs (IEPs). What I didn’t expect was also helping with morning arrival—essentially being a crossing guard—and then covering two lunch periods with spilled milk, aerial chicken nuggets, and the kids.
I felt like I plunged into the middle of the ocean without knowing how to swim.
First thing in the morning, I put on a neon yellow reflective vest, welcome the kids to school, and make sure they don’t get hit by a car. It’s a lot of smiling, talking to parents, and being “on.” A switch from being home for the past 10 years with my three cats, whom I sometimes talked to when I felt lonely. All kinds of weather – I get cold easily, so that’s been an adjustment—and one day my feet were soaked from rain, all day long. I’ve learned to be more prepared and resilient.
My mind is blown by how difficult it is to work in a school—I’m humbled and have a new respect for everyone involved in educating children, in all their roles. And thank you, teachers.
You live and you learn.
During the day, I use fax machines, a paper shredder, and a PC with non-user-friendly software—new things that send my nervous system into the red zone. It’s funny because I’m tech‑savvy (at least after the 2000s), but I couldn’t figure out how to use the buttons on the gigantic copy machine. One day, I needed to scan documents into Sesis, and it seemed there was a dead mouse lodged in the machine. It was a big thing in the main office. It ended up being a dead bird between the glass and the screen of the nearby window. But still.
A lot of tasks come my way verbally, so I have to remember and write them down, but then I can’t read my handwriting. I feel my brain has adapted to keyboards and forgotten how to use a pen. I have a filing cabinet with those plastic colored slip divider things that I have now labeled.
I photocopied pictures of my head one morning when no one was around. It was liberating.
I take a break from the low-tech world for lunch—not my lunch, though, the kids’— honestly, it might be the hardest part of my day. The cafeteria is sensory overload: bright lights, loud voices, whistles, and kids in overdrive — gummy bears, Minecraft lunch boxes, tiny dolls, and Pikachu—who I now know is a squirrel. I slip on mystery sauce almost every day. I’m managing meltdowns and big emotions from little people. I am trying to resolve disputes meaningfully. I aim to treat each situation with respect, not dismiss them just because they’re over stolen Takis.
This represents future conflicts, right? And how they’ll learn to handle them starts now. I’m trying to use common sense and kindness, I have no training. I have no idea what I’m doing. Why was I hired? I’m mostly learning from the kids, observing and taking in as much information as I can. My mind is blown by how difficult working in a school is—I am humbled. I’m fried by 3 p.m.
Teachers—thank you.
After lunch, we go outside for recess. There’s one girl in 4th period who does forward rolls almost the whole time. I have a whistle and hate to use it. I can’t manage to get 26 eight-year-old kids into two straight lines with no talking. Sign’s up! I call them “my adorable blob.” Because our line is never straight. I’ve lost my temper many times and then apologized. The kids appreciate being treated like real humans. The children like me. They said they will miss me over the summer, and I miss them too.
So much soccer! One day, the ball went over the fence, and the kids begged me to get it. Of course I would. I jogged around in my flat, beige, pointed shoes. Hubert urged me to throw it over. I couldn’t make it. Caesar rallied me on! A crowd of boys gathered, all giving instructions and rooting me on, “Ms. Paula, higher!” After many tries, I finally got the soccer ball over the tall chain‑link fence, and the kids roared and cheered for me! They taught me to keep trying, never give up. My eyes welled with tears, and I wanted to cry. Maybe this is why I am here?
I haven’t learned how to swim yet, but I’ve gotten really good at treading water.
Note: The important things happening in my life, I push aside and delay writing about because it all feels too big. I get caught up thinking, I need to include every detail, and then tell myself I’ll write it when I have more time. So I have several half‑written “life” columns like this one that I haven’t shared. It’s just easier to write about peanuts and potatoes.
This week I decided to just go for it and get something down about this new chapter. I’ve missed details—it’s not exactly how I want it, but here it is. I can always say more another time. There’s more time than you think.
