Today Mexico celebrates the Day of the Dead. As is custom anywhere, the actual holiday is stretched out for days. We have seen altares to the dead, drank atoles, and eaten pan de muerto since Monday, and will probably continue to do so until the weekend. After I finish this entry Talea, Ingrid, and I will walk over to the cementary to catch some of the action. We plan to see lots of colorful (mostly yellow) flowers, candles, mariachis, families picnicing on and around tombs, and maybe a bottle or two of taquila (taquila not a tradition particular to this holiday; pretty much omnipresent). All schools are closed, and business is dead (that in honor of the greatest punster north of the border, our dear defunct Uncle Warren).
An article in this morning`s El Siglo de Durango notes that eight out of ten terminally ill are resigned to die. It reports that wailing, singing, and crying around those other two of ten terminally ill might not be a good idea. Let´s tuck that one away in the “info. neither needed nor asked for” file located in between the¨”unsolicited advice” and “if I were you” files.
Hasta la muerte,