Bury Me in Mexico

Here's the cemetary in Salina Cruz, all decked out with flowers and candles. My neighbors sat around the tomb eating fried fish and drinking tequila with the grandmother having a running conversation with the dearly departed. There were mariachis wadering around singing and little kids running everywhere. Please bury me in Mexico. I think I'm a bit too social for a WASP graveyard . . .

This was the death alter my friend set up for her party on Tuesday. You put out candy, a special bread, flowers, tequila, and--if your alter is for a specific dead person--that person's favorite food. We ended up stealing the tequila from death.

Yeah. So did I have anyone coming over to see my version of the death alter?

No.

Did I let that stop me from making one despite the fact that I'm not Mexican and not Catholic?

Hell, no.

But Death may have been disappointed with my offereings of cheap wine and potato chips.

This is me (looking quite like my mother circa 1969, I might add) and Maria José at my neighbors' restaurant in front of their alter.