Three of us were at La Kocina de Raphael earlier this month when we observed a ritual I’d not seen in 30 years.

My son Stan, with his wife Lisbeth, with daughter Ellen Vestergaard, 7 months, joined me at the restaurant for lunch. In a nearby booth, behind Ellen, were three women who were causing my granddaughter to turn her head to see them. Ellen enjoyed the sights.

As the women got ready to leave, they asked questions as to the baby’s sex, age, name. Then the oldest placed her thumb on Ellen’s forehead, going from top to bottom, then from left to right.

The second woman, probably the daughter, did the same thing. The third simply touched Ellen’s forehead without making the sign of the cross. Ellen’s mother, born in Denmark and baptized Lutheran, seemed puzzled but not bothered by the gestures.

What we witnessed was the administering of a blessing, a gesture to ward off mal ojo, or evil eye. My parochialism showed when I discovered that reference works stress that whereas the custom might be more prevalent among Spanish-heritage people, the practice of giving this antidote is worldwide and centuries-old.

I resisted my impulse to tell my daughter-in-law that the second woman’s actions had cancelled out those of the older woman. If anything, the blessing by the daughter reinforced those of the elderly mother.

In our household we didn’t grow up believing in mal ojo, our never even having heard Mom or Dad mention it. They did, however, tell us of La Llorona, or
Wailing Woman. My parents made her into a mythical Boogie Man, someone who “will come and get you if you provoke her.”

The lesson became especially palpable on rainy late-October nights, when we were naughty.

Essentially, making the sign of the cross on a child’s forehead is believed to be a way of protecting the child from illness or even death. Legend says that when a baby is admired too much, the curse of mal ojo can manifest itself in other ways, such as financial hardships and marital problems.

It was exactly 30 years ago that I observed the administering of the gesture on a closer relative, our then-infant son Benjie. My wife Bonnie, a teacher in Anton Chico, took Benjie to school, where he received praise, a couple of teenie-boppers at AC Elementary uttering, “Que cute-ito!” They’re right.

But as they left the room, several crossed Benjie’s forehead “to prevent mal ojo.”

Children are precious. For the most part, they are the creatures most loved in the world, not only by their immediate families but universally.

And regardless of people’s beliefs as to the efficacy of the brief and simple ritual, I’m grateful to the women who performed it on my granddaughter three weeks ago — and to the 12 or more who did it to my son three decades ago — whether it’s fact, faith or folklore.

Or it could be all of the above.