Dia de los Muertos

One might think that leaving bustling tourist hot spots like Chichen Itza and Riviera Maya might also bring an end to all the excitement in Miguel's life.
However, that was far from true. Miguel was still waiting on his adobe brick to cure. Sr. Vasquez was busy with the Tenochtitlan renovations in downtown Mexico City. Juneta had been doing more grown-up activities. This left Miguel to his studying, but October was nearing its end. That meant the holiday season in Mexico.
It began with All Souls day and the Day of the Dead, also known as 'Dia de los Muertos'. Dia de los Muertos was actually three days – from October 31st to November 2nd.
On Monday the 27th, Sra. Vasquez went to the attic with flashlight in hand. Miguel climbed the stairs and peered into the dark attic.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for Grandpa Juan’s crate.”
“I know where it is.”
Miguel climbed into the attic. His mother’s flashlight followed him into the far corner. He picked up a large metal milk crate.
“Be careful,” she said.
Miguel set the crate at the top of the stairs before heading down the steps. Sra. Vasquez handed down the crate and came down the stairs, too.
“I forgot all this stuff,” said Miguel.
Sra. Vasquez and Miguel sat at the kitchen table and sorted through the crate. Among the mess of things, there was an old catcher’s mitt, a wrinkled baseball cap, a shoebox full of old photos, a bundle of long, bright green feathers, and several old pairs of huaraches – leather sandals with straps that fit like flip flops with a thick heel strap attached to the back.
Sra. Vasquez carefully dusted everything with her hands as she sorted through the crate. As she did, Aunt Angelina arrived at the front door.
“Venga! Venga!” called Sra. Vasquez. Angelina joined them at the kitchen table.
“Dad’s old stuff,” said Angelina wistfully.
Sra. Vasquez held a pair of huaraches in her hands.
“I remember that old man sitting out in the middle of our backyard in an old wooden chair. Sometimes, he’d sit there all day long. He’d prop his feet on an old block of wood and flip these huaraches around with his toes. They’d clap against the bottoms of his feet. I always thought he was a crazy old bird.”
“Speaking of birds,” said Angelina as she twirled the bundle of long, green feathers in her hand, “The thing I’ll never forget was ‘Perro’.”
Sra. Vasquez would not let her father-in-law have a pet dog when Juneta and Miguel were both little children. Instead, she allowed him to buy a quetzal to keep in a birdcage. In defiance, he named the bird ‘Perro’, the Spanish word for ‘dog’.
They reminisced about Grandpa Juan for quite some time. Late in the afternoon, Sr. Vasquez returned home for lunch. He brought home a bag of boiled peanuts. He found the rest of his family in the living room gathered around the fireplace. They had turned it into an altar – a collection of things to remember Grandpa Juan on Dia de los Muertos.
“Are those for Grandpa?”
“Some are, some aren’t. He filled Miguel and Juneta’s cupped hands with boiled peanuts. Miguel peeled off the soggy shell and popped the peanuts into his mouth.
Boiled peanuts always reminded Miguel of two things: pinto beans and Grandpa Juan. Personally, Miguel never liked boiled peanuts or pinto beans. However, he always loved his Grandpa.
“Ah, the Diablos Rojos,” said Sr. Vasquez.
Father was talking about Grandpa Juan’s favorite baseball team – the Mexico City Red Devils. They were part of the Mexican league. Grandpa Juan walked, in his old sandals, faded gray Diablos Rojos jersey, and thread-bare red baseball cap, to the old stadium - Parque del Seguro Social.
Bleachers curled from 1st to 3rd base around the catcher’s side of the field. A long, sweeping metal awning hung over the seats. Grandpa Juan sat in the back row on the third base side, far from the crowds.
“He’d plop his long legs over the seat in front of him and eat boiled peanuts from the first inning to the last,” said Angelina.
“I’ve never seen a person eat anything like Grandpa Juan ate boiled peanuts,” added mother.
A mound of wet peanut shells grew on the otherwise clean altar.
“Oh, those shells,” exclaimed mother.
She shoveled them into the wastebasket. Sr. Vasquez placed the catcher mitt and ball cap where the peanut shells once sat.
“That’s a good start for now.”
As the week progressed, so, too, did the items on the altar. Juneta put a framed picture of her Grandparents in the center of the altar. A young couple, dressed in black and white, stood in front of the old firehouse. Grandpa Juan’s firefighting buddies served as groomsmen. Grandma Yolanda’s friends from school served as bridesmaids. Juneta polished the tarnished gold frame.
“Good as new.”
On Wednesday, Uncle Tony brought bottles of banana peppers and popcorn. It was another of Grandpa Juan’s curious traits – he always mixed banana peppers into his movie popcorn.
On Thursday, Aunt Angelina showed up with bundles of yellow and orange marigolds. She tied them into a daisy chain and arranged them around the picture frame.
Friday finally came. It was the first day of the three-day celebration.
Sra. Vasquez stood in front of the stove. Black beans, red onions, hearty tomato sauce, ground beef, and banana peppers simmered in a large frying pan. After they thickened to a hearty chili, ra. Vasquez added dried hominy to the chili, making a hominy-chili stew.
Hominy was the popular large-kernel white corn of central Mexico. It was less sweet than regular maize; the kernels often absorbing the taste of whatever ingredients they were cooked with. In this case, the hominy tasted like a mild, sweet chili.
Sra. Vasquez dumped the mixture into a baking pan. She added a thick layer of Queso fresco to the top before putting it into the oven. Now, the chili had become a chili-hominy casserole.
"What are you making that for?"
"For your grandfather."
"But he's gone."
"Tonight is Dia de los Muertos."
"I know,” said Miguel sadly.
“It’s a time for celebration, not remorse.”
“But I miss him.”
“We all miss him, Miguel. We take this time to remember how he brought joy to our lives.”
While mother and son discussed Grandpa Juan, Juneta was busily primping in front of the bathroom mirror. She started by washing her face with antibacterial soap and rinsing it with water. She used a towel and then the hair dryer to dry her face. Next, a coat of primer and a base layer of clown white makeup. That is when Miguel knocked on the door.
“Junie! Hurry up! I need to use the restroom.”
“Use the other one. I’m busy.”
“What is taking so long?”
“I’m putting on make-up.”
Miguel opened the door.
“Meego! Give me privacy.”
Miguel closed the toilet lid and sat across the bathroom from his sister. She returned to her make-up. She applied and reapplied black makeup until two black spots circled her eyes. She drew the mouth, teeth and all, over her lips. Her face was beginning to look like a skull.
“You want to be made up like this?”
Miguel shook his head.
“It’s yucky.”
“Not if you do it right,” she said.
Juneta continued applying make-up. She painted flowers on each side of her face, painting them like yellow and orange marigolds. The used black eyeliner to fill in the blackness of her eyebrows and to shape the contours of her cheekbones.
“Maybe a little,” said Miguel.
“Maybe a little what?”
“Maybe a little face paint.”
Juneta eagerly dropped her work. Now, she had her own personal “Frankenstein” with which she could play dress-up.
“Close your eyes and hold still.”
She squirted a dollop of white paint onto her hands and massaged it into Miguel’s face. As she began drawing lines with the eyeliner pencil, Miguel grimaced.
“That’s enough.”
“You cannot stop now.”
“I sure can.”
Miguel looked at his face.
“Maybe some eyebrows.”
She painted in the eyebrows. Miguel checked her work.
“Maybe some teeth.”
She sketched teeth over his closed lips. He looked at his reflection.
“Pefect.”
“There’s still more to do.”
“I think I look perfect.”
Miguel darted out of the bathroom. He forgot he still had to use the other bathroom. After he finished, he went to his bedroom to study books. Juneta finished her makeup. She tried on her baby blue ballgown and Easter hat. It was wide-brimmed and trimmed with lace.
She went downstairs.
“Mi Calavera Catrina!” exclaimed Sr. Vasquez.
Indeed, she did look like “the elegant skull” made famous by printer Jose Posada. “The Elegant Skull” was just that – a thin skeleton draped in a rich Victorian dress and bonnet. It had become what most female parade-goers copied.
Everyone, including the Aunts and Uncles, joined Miguel and Juneta for dinner. They enjoyed many of Grandpa Juan’s favorite foods, including hominy chili, boiled peanuts, and rice pudding. The adults drank beer while the children drank bitter raspberry tea. It was Grandma’s favorite. They even drank it out of old glass milk bottles, just like Grandma did a long, long time ago.
“I almost forgot!” exclaimed Uncle Juan.
He grabbed old plastic skulls from his knapsack and placed them in the center of the table. He followed that immediately with a bag of candy skulls.
They came in a few different shapes and styles. Some were bubble gum and some were white chocolate over dark chocolate. The majority of them were crystallized sugar.
The children ate a few. The adults ate some, too. Sra. Vasquez quickly put them away, saving them for later.
“Let’s go to the parade,” urged mother.
Skeletons and Catrinas filled the streets as drums beat out rhythms. Some were slow and plodding, like a sad elephant. Most others were loud and rambunctious. People danced salsas and tangos and even disco bumps. Many people were handing out candy while they danced and sang.
Although the parade lasted well past midnight, the Vasquez family returned home early.
Aunt Angelina and Sr. Vasquez lit candles around the altar. Light breezes blew through the open windows as the candles flickered.
“Maybe that’s Grandpa,” said Aunt Angelina.
“It’s just the wind,” said Miguel.
“You never know,” added Uncle Juan.
Uncle Juan told a story of his first trip to see the Diablos Rojos. It was on a chilly night just like this. He reminisced about his father.
“It’s funny how he loved watching baseball. He’d sit at the top of the bleachers and watch the crowd and watch the players. I’d never ask him the score or who the batter was at home plate. He’d never seem to know. On the other hand, he did know what the old lady and her husband were arguing about ten rows away.”
And that was Grandpa Juan. He always seemed to be ignoring the big picture but noticing the smallest of details. Maybe he was just more interested in a cold bottle of beer and his boiled peanuts.
Both Miguel and Juneta drifted off to sleep with stories of Grandma and Grandpa. Sr. and Sra. Vasquez tucked a blanket around the children and blew out each of the candles on the altar.
Soft breezes blew over the children, kissing their faces gently.
“Suenos Amables, mis ninos.”
Sweet dreams.