No Bones About It: Day
of the Dead Is Finding New Life
Popularity Rises of a Mexican Holiday Honoring
the Departed
By Miriam Jordan
OCEANSIDE, Calif.—John
Finneran was a proud Irish-American with a passion for classic cars who died
last year at age 81. This year, to honor his memory, his daughter decided to
erect an altar in the trunk of his 1940 Cadillac LaSalle and display it at a
Day of the Dead celebration here.
"I'm sure my
father's here and loving this," said Dorothy Petrich, 55, standing
alongside the shiny black car last Sunday at the Old Mission San Luis Rey
event, which drew a crowd of some 25,000.
Once observed mainly
by people of Mexican heritage, Day of the Dead, or Dia de los Muertos, a
venerable and quirky holiday that honors the departed with a blend of Aztec and
Christian elements, is getting new life in the U.S. among a mainstream
audience. From museums to dolls to an animated Walt
Disney Co. movie,
los muertos and their annual day are on the rise in popular culture, a
development that gratifies new fans, but irks some traditionalists.
Celebrating
Day of the Dead
Once observed mainly
by people of Mexican heritage, Day of the Dead, or Dia de los Muertos, a
venerable and quirky holiday that honors the departed with a blend of Aztec and
Christian elements, is getting new life in the U.S. among a mainstream
audience.
"This is about
remembering the dead with fun instead of throwing them in a garden, crying and
then forgetting them," said Tom Bernardy, a middle-aged surfer raised
Catholic who was viewing the altars on display at Mission San Luis Rey.
"Day of the Dead
is becoming the cool holiday," says Celine Mares, co-founder of a popular
annual event in a Hollywood cemetery. "Halloween is passé."
According to Muertos
tradition, on Nov. 1 and 2, the heavens open and the souls of the dead return
to earth. Their living relatives build altars with offerings of food, drink and
even sports memorabilia to entice them to come down, dine and celebrate.
For her father's
altar, Ms. Petrich ringed the Caddy trunk with marigolds and bright-colored
garland. Mementos included pictures of Mr. Finneran, as well as his straw hat
adorned with car-club pins, and comestibles, such as his favorite
chocolate-caramel chewy cookies, ginger ale and the festive sweet roll called
pan muerto.
People who stopped by
the car engaged in lively conversation about the dead. They learned about her
dad and his car hobby, but also about her grandmother's love of Wrigley's
Doublemint gum and the fact her husband's grandmother was an early female
graduate of the Cordon Bleu cooking school in France.
Friars from the
mission, dressed in traditional robes, blessed a series of altars erected in
vintage cars, as well as larger, more elaborate altars set up in the historic
church's grassy courtyard. "We're poking fun at death; it's a delight to
see," Father Michael Dallmeier said as he made the rounds.
Embracing his own
mortality, Oceanside Mayor Jim Wood got half his face painted to resemble a
colorful skull, a holiday tradition. "Until recently, most of us didn't
understand what this was all about," he said, scanning the diverse crowd.
Maureen Sullivan, who
has organized the Oceanside event for the past five years, says she sees
interest in Day of the Dead growing, citing inquiries from across the country.
"People want to know what it's about," she said.
In Texas, Houston's
science museum offers a workshop for teachers interested in taking the holiday
into their classrooms. "It's probably our most popular workshop,"
said education director Nicole Temple. Lesson One, she says: "It's not
Mexican Halloween."
In San Diego, Philip
Shirk says Muertos-related items in his Vintage Religion store, such as
whimsical, colorful skulls, represented 5% of his business seven years ago. Now
they account for about half. "It keeps cannibalizing the rest of the
store," he said as he prepared a shipment of sugar-skull molds going to
the East Coast.
Mr. Shirk offers a
workshop on making sugar skulls, a traditional Muertos treat. While his usual
clientele includes "rockabillies" and Goth types attracted to
ghoulish items, he says several return clients are white, middle-aged women who
have taken up the craft.
The rise of mainstream
interest in Dia de los Muertos is often associated with Hollywood Forever
Cemetery. For 14 years, the sprawling burial ground, where many celebrities are
interred, has been the site of a Day of the Dead celebration.
In its first year,
1999, the event attracted barely 300 people. "It was Mexican families and
bohemian types," recalls co-founder Ms. Mares. On Saturday, about 35,000
people are expected for a day featuring musical performances, processions and
100 altars.
Rebecca Anderson will
woo her mother's spirit back with her beloved beer and oatmeal cookies.
"My mom would think I'm nuts," says the Lutheran Minnesota native.
"She'd also like it, because I am remembering her."
Each year, the crowd
has grown larger and more diverse, Ms. Mares says, with Catholic Filipinos,
Jews and Russian Orthodox building altars. As more Americans have embraced Day
of the Dead, the holiday has evolved. Altars to pets and to fallen stars, like
Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson, have become common at the cemetery event.
Companies are also
jumping in. Nestlé, a sponsor of the cemetery event, says it will
attempt to "establish the Guinness World Record for the largest Day of the
Dead altar in the U.S." Its entry will portray stylish female skeleton
figures known as Catrinas enjoying cups of its Mexican-style hot
chocolate and its instant coffee.
As part of its Monster
High doll franchise, toy maker Mattel sells Skelita Calaveras, whose face
resembles a sugar skull and whose black, flowing hair boasts marigold streaks.
Earlier this year Walt
Disney scrapped an application to trademark the term "Dia de los
Muertos," which it had filed for a coming movie about the holiday from its
Pixar Animation Studios. The move followed online outrage, including a
cartoonist who drew a fanged "Muerto (Mickey) Mouse" in protest. The
company said it withdrew the application after deciding to change the movie's
title.
At Mission San Luis
Rey, Ms. Sullivan acknowledged the holiday's evolution may irk some, but said
of her event, "We stick to the traditional roots but give the event a
mainstream twist."
And so, on Sunday, a
Mexican-American woman "smudged" attendees with a smoking bundle of
herbs as part of a traditional cleansing rite. Folkloric dancers with skeletal
faces pranced on the stage. Children decorated candy skulls with icing. And at
an award ceremony, Ms. Petrich teared up as her Cadillac was proclaimed
"best" of the car displays.
"We'll be back
next year," she said, adding: "I feel like my grandkids are going to
carry this tradition on."
—Ben Fritz contributed to this article.
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