The Day of the Dead descends in two weeks. Some sections of Mexico still embrace this old tradition, and I live in one of them.
The proximity on the calendar to Halloween is no coincidence, of course. Likewise, many holidays and traditions of the Christian faith are leftovers from more ancient myths.
The cemetery in the photo, I have heard, is the site of one of the more spectacular scenes hereabouts on the Night of the Dead.
There will be candles and marigolds and people galore. Survivors of the deceased sit all night at the gravesides to honor their relatives who have gone to that Big Cantina in the Sky.
I was in this village on an unrelated matter yesterday, so I walked through the graveyard. While the deceased are honored on the holiday night, it’s clear that nobody gives them a moment’s thought the rest of the year.
The cemetery is a dump.