Dia De Los Muertos

Five years ago I finally made it to Mexico. A friend of mine, Raymond, who was born there was my traveling companion for the first week. We stayed with a priest who had practiced in Ray's church years ago in Sacramento. Padre Antonio was a blast and a wonderful host. His home, filled with dogs and cats, was in the hills of Cuernavaca.

The Padre was our tour guide for the 3 days of Dia De Los Muertos. By day he would take us to cemetaries in various villages and towns where he had once been the parish priest. Families would spend a day or more cleaning grave sights, having picnics, and decorate with fresh flowers by the bucket full. By night he would take us to public festivals or drop us off at someones door to pay our respects to the recently departed. Their life-size effigies were laid out with a plethora of flowers and food and the things that person loved in life. Both Ray and I felt strange showing up at strangers doors with nothing but flowers in our hands but we were welcomed with such hospitality and warmth that we eventually felt more comfortable accepting hot cocoa and pan dulce. The Padre would hide out somewhere around the corner so that his parishioners wouldn't see him and request lengthy blessings.

The "folks" we visited were mostly elderly but in one case it was a teenager who'd passed away. Josue had died as a result of gang violence. "He" was wearing his favorite clothes and above his bed was a photograph of him wearing the same, it was truly haunting.

At one point we were in a cemetery after dark and met a family of 3 brothers and their mother who were cleaning and adorning the father's grave. They invited us back to their nearby home to have some coffee and sweets. Although he had died almost 20 years before, the father held a prominent place on a counter filled with flowers and candles. Once again, so much hospitality, we Americans could certainly learn from other cultures who aren't so paranoid and self-centered.

The home alters ranged from simple, silent reminders of a persons life (like the Padre's mother's alter with just a glass of water, wild flowers and a candle to light the way) to the over the top. Ray and I made an alter for our fathers in the front entry of The Padre's house. Everyday we would find things at the market to add to the table such as pan muerte, whisky, cigarettes and other things our fathers enjoyed that probably killed them. As we collected each item we shared with each other memories, that experience will forever be with me.

I spent the rest of my time in Mexico mostly in Oaxaca and Mexico City. I met nothing but wonderful people and had so many great experiences. The Dia De Los Muertos celebrations and rituals were beautiful and real and the continued connection that the people of Mexico have with their faith and their dead is enviable to me.

Happy Halloween?

This is probably only the second time since I was a child that I haven't done anything for Halloween. I am usually some sort of vampire (punk rock, Victorian, traditional), but nothing this year. I have more than 20 huge boxes of costumes I've collected since I was 16, although they were not costumes at that time.

I've always had parties, decorated my houses to the extreme, scared the crap out of little kids...Halloween is my favorite holiday. But, since we moved to this neighborhood we have never had more than 3 trick or treaters. Being a mostly Russian community and not wanting to offend, I have kept the crazy to a minimum.

We only had 1 kid tonight and that was only because I had told her mother earlier that we had candy as I passed her on the street. Can't even give the stuff away and it's the good stuff-Snickers, Reese's, PayDay and Twix, Geez!

In With the New

Some weeks back I came home to find that one of the 50+ year old rose bushes had been torn out of the ground by the city workers who were installing new water meters. It was a climbing red beauty that I'd thought about moving and replacing with a shade tree but was afraid that it wouldn't make it. The decision was made for me but seeing the poor, old thing laying there broke my heart.

So, I bought and planted an African Sumac which will be slow growning but worth the wait as I didn't want to settle for something common. The seeds of this tree were originally collected in South African in 1919 and propagated in Chico, California. I have read that the fruit of the Sumac are ground down into powder and used by people in the Middle East as a spice. Once established, it will need very little water and work nicely with my plans for our super, small front yard.

The first thing that HAS to happen is changing out the fence. At some point in this neighborhoods' history some one got the great idea of using chain-link fences and then everyone jumped on board. Ghetto! Thinking economy and re-use, I plan to get old railroad ties and stack them 2-3 feet high.

Then, out with the grass and in with decomposed granite, rock stepping stones, agave's, succulents and such. I think I will paint the brick or stain it darker, take out the geraniums (though beautiful a pain to dead-head constantly) and replace them with yuccas (of which I have an abundance).

If our house was just strong enough for a tile roof! At the end of our street, along the railroad tracks, still sits the old Portuguese tile factory that was owned by my 80 year old neighbors' uncles. You can spot the houses that were originally inhabited by Portuguese from the Russians.

As usual, so many plans...so little money and time!

Friday Night

The closing reception was not a smashing success but I sort of figured it wouldn't be, too many things going on Friday night, the first couple of hours there were but 3 of us. Last week, in my handcoloring b & w photos workshop, I really hit it off with a gal named Abbe. She had shown me some of her daughters art and I invited her to hang some pieces for the closing reception.

People finally came, a few at least. A few pieces sold. But the best part of the evening was hangin' with the teenagers. Georgina and Chris were awesome people and we had some great conversations. When their friends showed up I read their palms in the dim light of the "lounge" and wondered if they had any idea how many crazy, new experiences were to come.

I headed out with a couple of girl-friends for a pint of Guinness at a nearby bar then called it a night. I came home to the tiny, fur balls (Booger and Eddy) wide awake and ready for play time.

Kittens, anyone?

My visual migraine started yesterday and came back today. My neighbor Irene called just as I'd come home from work to to lie down and close my eyes. She'd found 3 kittens that had been abandoned by the neighborhood feral hussy.

A few years ago, one of "Buddha's" cats had her own litter of 5 that she'd left out in the sun to die. We took them in along with the mother I'd trapped (as they were but 2 days old), fed them with syringes when mamma wouldn't, wiped their bottoms with warm, wet rags and fretted like they were our own. Found them all great homes and mamma got "fixed".

Thankfully these little guys are about 5 weeks old and don't require the sleepless nights. I hope that they will find someone to love them tomorrow night at the closing reception at my studio.