Maybe Americans Do Have (Some) Culture: The Legend of the Pennsylvania Groundhog
Americans have no culture? Try again!
In my home state, we hold a fucking rodent up to the sun to see if spring is coming. Well, maybe the tradition came from the Germans, but that doesn’t really matter. As a young woman meeting people from around the world, I began to foolishly believe the sense that Americans “don’t have a culture” (nevermind the fact that literally everyone has a culture). We are blessed with only consumerism, exceptionalism, imperialism, and trucks with wheels big enough to bulldoze school children. Freedom baby!
But then there was Phil. Punxsutawney Phil, to be precise. One day, my friends and I sat down to watch the popular film “Groundhog’s Day’ and they asked me what the hell Groundhogs day was. Watching the bewildered look on their faces is when I realised I finally had something… Something! A sliver of culture, a morsel of whimsiness.
I am of course talking about the Pennsylvania Deutsch practice of Groundhog’s day. If you are unfamiliar, every February 2nd, a supposedly hundreds of years old groundhog (Punxsutawney Phil) emerges from its hibernation, ventures out of his burrow, and forecasts whether the remainder of winter will bring further chill. According to tradition, if the groundhog sees its shadow, it retreats to hibernation, indicating prolonged winter. Conversely, the absence of a shadow suggests warmer days ahead. And if there wasn’t enough absurdity, this apparently sacred tradition takes place in a local park called “Gobbler’s Knob”.
Every year as a child we would wait anxiously in overcrowded elementary school classrooms to watch Punxsutawney Phil’s fat ass be hoisted from the ground on national television. What was compelling us to do this, if not culture? Often Americans like to think of themselves as more civilised than other peoples–there is nothing rational about this process! Watching my friends become hysterical over the concept of Groundhog’s day sparked my curiosity in exploring other Pennsylvania traditional folklore.
It perhaps goes without saying that ‘Punxsutawney’ is not an English word–this land was initially tended by Shawnee and Lenape Indigenous Americans. They referred to insects as "ponkies," meaning "living dust and ashes." Their village, Ponkis Utenink, later became known as Punxsutawney. Legend has it that the term "ponkies" originated from the ashes of a sorcerer-hermit who terrorized the region. His body was burned, and his ashes transformed into tiny creatures infesting the swampy land (gnats). In 2024, the influence of this indigenous folklore seeped into the name of probably the most famous groundhog of all time.
Further in my research, I discovered another local obsession with a funny looking creature-the Squonk. There is even a Squonkapalooza in August in Johnstown, Pennsylvania (I heard Bella Hadid will be there). What is this creature, you may ask?
The Squonk is said to inhabit the Hemlock forest of northern Pennsylvania. They are described as having ill-fitting skin covered in warts and being so painfully ugly that the Squonk hides in shame, often weeping and avoiding sight. According to lore, when hunters attempt to capture it, the Squonk dissolves into tears and bubbles, evading capture. This legend originated in the late nineteenth century during Pennsylvania's timber and hunting era, and is more currently known for being mentioned in a Steely Dan track. The mythical figure is now a pop cultural symbol of awkwardness, shame, and standing alone–easily relatable to those of us who grew up in Pennsylvania.
My last piece of folklore originates relatively recently from my home city of Pittsburgh. In the 1950s, whispers grew in the city about “The Green Man” or “Charlie No Face”. He was a man (or a ghost?) who was frequently spotted walking along Route 51 at night and was said to be severely disfigured and emitting a green glow. For some years, people considered this an urban legend or horror story. But journalists soon found that the Green Man was real–his name was Ray Robinson. In a tragic accident as a child, he was electrocuted by power lines and left without eyes and a nose. Ray survived and settled into family life but sought solace in walks through the woods and roads–he believed he was so injured that his appearance would cause people to panic in the daylight. From there, he became intertwined with the city’s history. Reports say he was fairly well liked, people would bring him beer and cigarettes, and sometimes curious residents would form a line of 50 cars on the road he liked to walk, hoping to see him. He continued walking this same exact road for 30 years until he passed in 1985. I remember hearing this legend as a kid, but never knew he was a real person.
In sum, every culture has silly folklore and legends, even people as white breaded and bland as Pennsylvanias. Next time an American tries to tell you that we are an exceptional country full of rational people, ask them whether Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow this year.
