How to Get Comfortable with Death With Día de Los Muertos

 

  

Note—Another blog perennial.

Despite sharing some key common imagery—skulls and skeletons—and some cultural and religious DNA, Día de los Muertos, the two day festival from Mexico, is not just a Latinx Halloween.  The two observations reflect two entirely different views of death—one reflecting terror and horror and the other welcoming acceptance.  That’s the shorthand for it anyway.  It is, of course, more complicated.  The Mexican holiday owes its unique vitality to the merging and mutual corruption of two cultures so alien to each other that at first the seemed totally incompatible.

The Aztecs were the new kids on the block.  Just the latest in a chain of high civilizations that had risen and fallen in Mesoamerica over a period of 4,000 years—the Olmec, Maya, and Toltec to name a few.  There were serious ethnic, cultural, and religious differences between these groups, but archeological evidence shows that they shared a view of the afterlife—a cyclical pattern of life and death that was continuous and in which the spirits of the dead were a protective presence to the living.  Under the right circumstances the living and the dead could communicate.  Death was not seen as something grim, but as a natural step in continuing existence.

  

Aztec human sacrifice customs were unspeakably horrifying to the Spanish.  But the practices of the conquerors and their priests against the native population were hardly less brutal.  

This belief manifested itself in many ways, including some that to European eyes seemed barbaric and brutal beyond imagination, especially the mass human sacrifices as practiced by the Aztec.  But, at least theoretically, those sacrificed were expected to undergo the knife in a state of religious ecstasy as they transitioned to the next life for the good of their people.  Of course, in practice, the Aztecs often used hundreds of their captured enemies for the rituals and they may not have been so sanguine to their fates.

 

                                      Mictecacihuatl, Queen of the Aztec Underworld, eater of the dead 

But beyond the sacrifices, these beliefs meant that ordinary people could communicate, even celebrate, with their lost loved ones.  The Aztecs expressed it in a month long festival honoring the goddess Mictecacihuatl, Queen of the Underworld, or Lady of the Dead. During the festival they first honored los angelitos, the deceased children and then those who passed away as adults. The Mictecacihuatl festival was held during the late summer period of the corn harvests, a natural time of bounty and celebration.

Enter the Spanish, their soldiers, and priests who conquered the mighty Aztec—with the significant assistance of other civilized vassal peoples who were tired of giving up their corn and sacrifants to the mighty rulers of Tenochtitlan—who had very different ideas.  The first order of the day, going hand-in-hand in making the conquered people slaves, was destroying all vestiges of the old religion and imposing Catholicism on them.  After all, saving souls of the savages whether they liked it or not was a central mission of the Conquest.

The Church, of course, had a lot of experience in this sort of thing.  Hundreds of years earlier it had encountered, squelched, and absorbed the pagan Celtic and Germanic peoples.  The Church had learned to adapt local customs that could not be obliterated and cloak them as Christian traditions by turning old gods into venerated saints.

The transformation of the popular Celtic festival of Samhain, for instance, had been transformed into All Saints and All Souls Days.  Similarly in Mexico they re-purposed the Mictecacihuatl festival and squeezed it down from a month to the same two days coinciding with the end of the European harvest season on November 1 and 2. 

Indio peons were expected to attend masses to honor their dead—a least those who had died as good Catholics.  And this the people did dutifully.  Indeed, at first they had no choice, but eventually they internalized the changes and accepted them. While the people accepted the masses, they brought their own interpretations to them, and they continued to hold onto folk traditions that stretched back to Pre-Columbian times.  

  

A home ofrenda with images of the Dead and gifts of things they enjoyed in life.  

Over generations those traditions blossomed into Día de los Muertos as we know it today—spilled out of the churches and into homes where ofrendas, welcoming altars to the dead, are gaily decorated with skeletons, skulls, orange marigold Flor de Muerto, candles, religious icons, photos and memorabilia of the dead and groan with gifts of sweets, favorite foods, and alcohol.  These altars welcome the spirits of the visiting dead.

  

                                 A Dia de Los Muertos mural by Diego Rivera.  

Then in many places families return the favor by visiting the cemeteries and picnicking on the graves of loved ones.  In some areas of Northern Mexico, the family might camp out there from the evening of All Saints Day, November 1.  There are many regional variations involving parades and special celebrations in the homes where someone has died within the year which are opened to all visitors who are fed with homemade tamales and other treats.

  

Artist Jose Guadalupe Posada popularized skeletons playfully cavorting in the 19th Century.  Chicano artist Carlos Cortes, a close friend and IWW Fellow Worker, commemorated Posada and his creation Catrina in this linocut poster for the Movement Artistico Chicano in Chicago. 

The frequent use of skeletons and skulls is meant as a reminder that we are all mortal and will someday join the dead.  The popular 19th Century artist José Guadalupe Posada who depicted calacas—skeletons—cavorting gaily is credited with popularizing that sort of imagery which is continually re-interpreted by folk and fine artists. Particularly popular is the image of Catrina, the lanky, skeletal female figure bedecked in sumptuous clothing and giant ornate hats, who serves as a reminder that death is a fate that even the rich can’t avoid.  Catrina is also seen as an embodiment of old Aztec goddess Mictecacihuatl.  Other countries of Latin heritage have significant All Saints and All Souls celebrations, but outside of Mexico and adjacent countries with significant Mexican populations or cultural influence, none celebrate Día de los Muertos in this unique way.

  

Catrina, a wealthy skeleton woman is a common Día de Los Muertos icon and often decorates Ofrenda altars along side scull, candles, marigolds, and treats for the dead.  

The images were popularized in the United States by the 2017 Disney animated film Coco which unlike some previous productions from the Mouse House was sensitive and respectful of the culture it depicted. 

The U. S. with a large and growing population of Mexican descent or origin is one place where the festival is widely celebrated, particularly in the Southwest and border regions.  But with large population shifts moving north into the old industrial cities of the Midwest and Northeast and into rural and small town communities, the custom has spread, adapting to new circumstances. 

Anglo children are introduced to the Festival, stripped of religious significance, as part of their cultural awareness curriculum now in many schools but threatened by Trump/MAGA anti-DEI crusades.  Street festivals featuring revelers painted to look like skeletons are popular in cities like San Diego and draw many non-Mexicans.  This year American observances may be threatened extra-judicial kidnappings and aggressive violence against communities by ICE and Border Patrol sweeps.

 

Members brought photos, memorabilia, and gifts to dead loved ones to a Día de los Muertos ofrenda at a Tree of Life UU Congregation's observation a few years ago. 

The spirituality of Día de los Muertos and its unique view of death and the relationships between the living and the dead appeals to many in this country looking for new religious experiences.  Many non-Catholic churches now have Day of the Dead services or host family gatherings.  It is commonly observed in many Unitarian Universalist congregations which strive to navigate the tricky ground between respect and cultural misappropriation.  My church, the Tree of Life Unitarian Universalist Congregation in McHenry, Illinois had regular Day of the Dead services for well over a decade.

 

Diving Into the Photo Archeology of The IWW in Chicago in the ’70s

 

At the annual Chicago music party in 2010.   Michael Hargis in the Bears sweatshirt, the Old Man, and Judy Freeman whose face is partly obscured by the music stand.  Back then the hat was only a couple of years old and I could still get down to the floor and sit cross-legged and not need a railroad wrecker to get me up.

Kathleen Taylor and Hannah Frisch’s annual music circle parties in Chicago were an annual reunions for old Wobblies and folkies.  Their 26th annual party back in 2012 was great chance to see old friends of forty years or more from our wild and reckless youth as members of the Industrial Workers of the World in Chicago.  Basically, the party was a recreation of what we might have been doing any Saturday night back then—drinking, singing, and telling lies.  What could possibly be better?

I’ll tell you what.  Judy Freeman showed up with a stack of 8 x 10 prints she made of photos that she took in the ‘70s.   I came home with some.  Here they are with some commentary.

We were celebrating the opening of IWW General Headquarters and Chicago Branch hall on Webster Street near Halstead in 1973.  I’m awkwardly holding up one end of the IWW banner on the left.  I can also remember the complete identities of most of the others including the older man in the cap Virgil Vogel, a community college professor and one time Socialist Party candidate for Vice President; Mike Parisi, a young Vietnam Navy vet in the striped pants; Meg Barr with her son; David Devries, a printer, behind the boy; Kathleen Taylor who was then General Secretary Treasurer and my partner; David Barr holding up the other end of the banner; Freddie Barr, and Fred Major.  All of the rest I remember well, but names have fallen out of the old man’s ear.  Any help readers might have filling in the blanks would be much appreciated.

 

This one was taken at a party about 1975.  One of the great things about the Chicago IWW in those days was how multi-generational it was.  Relative whippersnappers like me associated freely with class war veterans.  A lot of lore and wisdom was passed along.

 

Here we are gathering in honor of Sam Dolgoff, the big man in the plaid shirt with the beer.  Sam was a New York Wobbly and career house painter who was also one of the elders of the American Anarchist movement.  A committed advocate of anarcho-syndicalism he edited and translated the definitive English compilation of Russian anarchist Mikhail Bakunin’s writings.  On this visit he was introducing his classic, The Anarchist Collectives: Workers’ Self-Management in the Spanish Revolution, 1936-1939.  Sam took delight in mentoring new generations—and discouraging them from abandoning class conscious anarchism for Nihilism and knee jerk street violence.

Also in the picture is young Dean Nolan (on the far left), a Wobbly recently arrived from Portland, Oregon who became one of the Chicago Branch’s most active members.  That’s me in profile, younger and slimmer.  I was editor of the Industrial Worker at the time.  I see that I was rockin’ a rust orange and blue plaid Edwardian cut sport coat, floral print shirt, and a cowboy style red silk scarf.

Center is Carlos Cortez deep in conversation with Sam.  Carlos was a former editor of the Industrial Worker and still contributed his signature Left Side column and other articles to the paper every month.  He was gaining fame as a graphic artist, poster maker, and poet.  His General Strike poster as well as his salutes to Joe Hill, Sacco Vanzetti, Ben Fletcher, Flores Magon. and other figures are still admired and he remains an icon to the Chicano, Latino, and Native American arts communities.

Finally, on the right is Kay Brundage, ex-wife Slim Brundage the Janitor of the College of Complexes.  Kay was active in the Chicago Branch in her own right and a link to many of the legendary soap boxers of Bug House Square.

 

When I first saw this shot, I thought it might be from an IWW convention.  But I figured out it was from a Chicago Branch social at the IWW General Headquarters then on Webster Street near Halstead.  I think it was 1978.  That’s Michael Hargis on the left.  He had just been elected General Secretary Treasurer (GST).  Mike is still active now the oldest Wobbly with continuous membership and is also one of the most senior and highly regarded of American Anarchists as well. 

The imminently memorable Leslie Fish is in the center with her 12 –string guitar.  Leslie not only sang but was a prolific songwriter of tunes like Freedom Road.  She sang with the Chicago Branch band the Dehorn Crew.  Leslie went on to be probably the most influential filksinger—a composer of science fiction fan folk style music.  In fact, she may have actually invented the genre as well as the name.  Leslie is now living in Arizona where she has become a right wing survivalist, gun cultist, Randian libertarian, and Trump acolyte.  She is a reminder that not all of us stayed on the left radical path, although most of us did.

Listening intently is Fred W.  Thompson.  Born in Prince Edward Island, Fred was a leader of the 1917 Halifax Dock Strike when he was only 18.  After bumming across Canada he came to the U.S. in the early 1920’s just in time for the post-World War I Red Scare.  He served time in San Quentin on a charge of Criminal Syndicalism for selling the Industrial Worker on the streets of Marysville, California.  He was such a good organizer that while in the joint, he convinced his fellow inmates to refrain from masturbating more than once a week so that self relief would “not lose its therapeutic value.” 

In 1932 he helped organize the first sit down strike in the auto industry at Briggs in Detroit when he slapped silent agitator stickers reading “Sit Down and Watch Your Pay Go UP!” on auto bodies moving down the assembly line. Later he organized and was the long time secretary of the last big Industrial Union Branch in the IWW—the I.U. 440 Metal and Machinery Workers in Cleveland, which included Magic Chef Stove and other factories.  Fred also taught at Work People’s College in Duluth, Minnesota, severed several terms as GST, edited the Industrial Worker, and was the organization’s leading historian and philosophizer.

 

Fred was my personal mentor.  He let me do the update of his classic IWW history which was published as The IWW: Its First 70 Years 1905-1975 and be listed as his co-author.  He was the best man at my wedding when he was 81 years old.

Fellow workers Carlos, Sam, Kay, and Fred are all gone.  At the most recent song party I could attend Kathleen, Dean, Michael, Judy, Robin Oye, and I were the old timers.  May we pass on the tradition half as well.