Memento Mori
I was supposed to be writing today about Nick Hornby's Juliet, Naked. I'm having trouble figuring out what I want to say about this novel, other than the fact that I love it so much I want to marry it. But I'm stalling. I need another day to get my head in the game, so to speak, and articulate my thoughts about it such that they make even a tiny bit of sense and accurately reflect what I'm thinking and feeling. Please come back tomorrow and read whatever I come up with and supply your own musings - the comments people leave for these Virtually Well Read Book Club "meetings" are so excellent and thoughtful.
Instead of spending time today working out the knot of my impressions of Juliet, Naked so that I could pass them on to you, I enlisted the help of TWGH and the shorties to create this Day of the Dead display.
picture all screwy - will replace soon!
I've never been good at dealing with death. I vividly remember lying in bed when I was about my daughter's age, terrifying myself by trying to imagine what would happen if my parents died, my brother died, my friends died, my dog died, or, worst of all, if I died. I struggle mightily when my kids raise the subject. As much as I'd like to get there, I am a long way away from making peace with this whole "circle of life" balderdash. Screw that. I want to live forever and I want my family and friends with me for the whole ride.
My son is more like me in this regard than my daughter is. While my daughter tends to be pretty pragmatic about the whole death thing, my son gets skeeved out easily. When he learned what cremation was, he didn't sleep in his own bed for a week. He still, months later, reminds me that "None of us in this family are getting burned up. I mean it!"
So what's with the Day of the Dead celebration? We're not Mexican, we're not Latin American, we're not Catholic, so what's the draw? I suspect it has something to do with the way that November reminds me of the ticking clock, the way that Fall feels alternately beautiful and celebratory yet hopeless and portentous. Maybe also it's just my way of handling my discomfort with death: it's bizarre and surreal and makes me feel a little untethered, so why not emphasize the theatricality and strangeness of the whole thing?
We were driving from somewhere to somewhere else the other day when I floated the idea of making this Day of the Dead altar. I started by describing what I planned to do (make clay figurines, find tokens and symbols of the departed, and bake skull and bones cookies) and whose deaths, and therefore lives, I wanted to honor. The kids made some suggestions from the back seat and then got quiet. I asked, "Is this too creepy?" The boy paused, but then answered, "No. I think it's a nice thing to do." The girl offered, "It's only creepy if the bones you make come to life and start dancing around the living room." And that about sums it up, doesn't it. We're all OK tip-toeing up to the edge of the abyss and taking a peek over the edge, all the while savoring the feel of the solid ground beneath our feet.
Memento Mori.
Instead of spending time today working out the knot of my impressions of Juliet, Naked so that I could pass them on to you, I enlisted the help of TWGH and the shorties to create this Day of the Dead display.
picture all screwy - will replace soon!
I've never been good at dealing with death. I vividly remember lying in bed when I was about my daughter's age, terrifying myself by trying to imagine what would happen if my parents died, my brother died, my friends died, my dog died, or, worst of all, if I died. I struggle mightily when my kids raise the subject. As much as I'd like to get there, I am a long way away from making peace with this whole "circle of life" balderdash. Screw that. I want to live forever and I want my family and friends with me for the whole ride.
My son is more like me in this regard than my daughter is. While my daughter tends to be pretty pragmatic about the whole death thing, my son gets skeeved out easily. When he learned what cremation was, he didn't sleep in his own bed for a week. He still, months later, reminds me that "None of us in this family are getting burned up. I mean it!"
So what's with the Day of the Dead celebration? We're not Mexican, we're not Latin American, we're not Catholic, so what's the draw? I suspect it has something to do with the way that November reminds me of the ticking clock, the way that Fall feels alternately beautiful and celebratory yet hopeless and portentous. Maybe also it's just my way of handling my discomfort with death: it's bizarre and surreal and makes me feel a little untethered, so why not emphasize the theatricality and strangeness of the whole thing?
We were driving from somewhere to somewhere else the other day when I floated the idea of making this Day of the Dead altar. I started by describing what I planned to do (make clay figurines, find tokens and symbols of the departed, and bake skull and bones cookies) and whose deaths, and therefore lives, I wanted to honor. The kids made some suggestions from the back seat and then got quiet. I asked, "Is this too creepy?" The boy paused, but then answered, "No. I think it's a nice thing to do." The girl offered, "It's only creepy if the bones you make come to life and start dancing around the living room." And that about sums it up, doesn't it. We're all OK tip-toeing up to the edge of the abyss and taking a peek over the edge, all the while savoring the feel of the solid ground beneath our feet.
Memento Mori.
Posted by Well Read Hostess at 11/1/2009 9:52 PM 
Categories: Old as Black Pepper,Parent of the Year
Tags: Juliet Naked birthdays Virtually Well Read Dia de los Muertos Nick Hornby
Categories: Old as Black Pepper,Parent of the Year
Tags: Juliet Naked birthdays Virtually Well Read Dia de los Muertos Nick Hornby
There is a beautiful post-9/11 NPR piece on the Day of the Dead and I think of it every year. Sometime this week, I take Halloween candy to the cemetery and give the squirrels a thrill.
Link to the post:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?
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I think it's lovely and the girl is a genius.
It's my anniversary...great day to be married, isn't it?
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Irish here so we have no such qualms about the dead. Though I notice everyone thought we were very odd to bring our 5 year old to an open coffin funeral. Our childhood was filled with tales of ghosts. There wasn't a square mile that didn't have a story and a lost spirit to go along with it. I am pretty comfy with my Celtic/Catholic superstitions
WRH, not trash talking at all, but that was a hard fought battle last night wasn't it? Your guys are gritty!!!
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Bone cookies? Ohhhh, I think cookies are a very good way to educate your children on the norms, mores and rituals of other cultures.
I think I'm going to have more cookie instruction around here.
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