If you asked me about the Spanish language classes I took from third through eighth grade, I'd tell you I couldn't recall much of the language beyond scattered vocabulary words. I might remember singing some random songs that I never actually understood, and I know(knew) enough words to get really excited by connections between language bases, but in the end, when I chose to continue learning German in high school, I quickly let go the contents of those Spanish classes. One thing I do remember, rather vividly: making altars to celebrate deceased loved ones on Day of the Dead.
At fourteen (just!), I hadn't had anyone very close to me pass away. Still haven't, for that matter. Certainly, I knew of people who had died, but even the deaths of my first pet rats didn't hit very close to home. So when, in eighth grade, we were assigned the task of building altars for an in-class celebration of All Souls Day, I dithered a while before deciding I would honor my great-grandpa Bill. I dutifully called my granny to learn more about her dad, (I had met him, but as a young child my first instincts were not to find out such things as favorite foods and pastimes of such a venerable old man) and set out to decorate a shoebox and fill it with pictures and objects in honor of Great-Grandpa. (I'm sad to say that nearly ten years later, I can no longer recall much of what went into that shoebox. Although I'm certain there is a photo somewhere of me proudly holding it up at the front of the classroom.) In class, Señora Perla brought in fruit and sugar skulls, while each person described the person (or pet) they honored with an altar.
Fast forward to this past Sunday. Anna and I hopped into the car shortly after noon to meet up with her friend Jude and her son Jose. Jude is an artist-type who makes lovely dyed t-shirts with Anna to sell at the Christmas market in December. She also makes these beautiful, traditional looking puppets for the All Souls Procession in Tucson. This year, we were remembering a recently passed friend of hers, and she had asked Anna whether I was interested in walking the parade with them.
We arrived in town hours before the parade started, with plenty of time to park and eat an early dinner. Most people on the street were already clearly dressed for the event, some with costumes, some with face paint, many with flowers. We assembled the puppet and walked to the start of the parade while Anna took the car to wait for us at the end. Then we stood on the street as the sky grew darker and the crossroads of Toole and Congress grew ever more crowded. All around us were people with masks, costumes, faces painted to look skeletal and deathly. Some carried homemade altars, signs and photos. Some had made elaborate floats. There was a tribute to Neil Armstrong, a horse skeleton covered in marigolds (the traditional flower of the dead), someone wearing a dinosaur skeleton, a large Jane Addams puppet probably twice my height and many remembrances of beloved dogs and cats.
Left to Right: Jude, puppet, Jose (hiding) and Anna
In addition to the expected memorials of lost loved ones were a number of groups who seemed to be pushing an agenda: a biodiversity group, a number of religious groups (one of whom sang an off-key, repetitive song behind us the entire procession), a protest of nuclear power remembering workers in plants that had experienced catastrophe, and bunches of people with signs declaring their political opinions. (Most of these seemed out of place at an event intended to joyfully celebrate dead loved ones.)
save the frogs - biodiversity group
We appear briefly in this video between 2:42 and 2:49, sandwiched between the biodiversity group's giant banner and the moon landing. Sorry for the poor quality!
It was a lovely evening, all told. Much more solemn and respectful than any other parade I've ever been to, but by no means dull. We skipped out on the end performance due to a long drive home and the late hour, but I'm beyond grateful that Jude invited me. I had so much fun helping move the puppet. I think my favorite part was the looks on the faces of little kids when the puppet would turn and wave, bend over them or offer a high five!
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