As I was placing a straw in my water at a restaurant tonight, my husband mentioned that he’d heard on the radio today that some crazy amount of straws are used every day, and since they don’t decompose, duh, there are initiatives to do away with them. So here are the last straws to be used by our family, ever. Until we forget and use one. But we’ll try to remember.
Living where we do allows us to experience traditions and cultures of other countries without having to leave our own. Our dinner menu rotations now include Chicken Adobo and Mole for instance. Today some women arrived in the cul de sac and unloaded what appeared to be party decorations. Before long, and with our neighbor’s assistance when they needed a ladder, they had set up this beautiful altar to honor his daughter who died of cancer earlier this year.
It will remain until next week, after Dia de Los Muertos is over. Between now and then, we can expect people to bring food and drink to the altar, to ensure she is not hungry or thirsty after her long spiritual journey, should she manage to make it. The tradition has been around in some form for a millennia longer than Christianity, and is celebrated in many countries, so who’s to say she won’t.