What to Do When Your Birthday Celebrates the Dead

Some people are fortunate/unfortunate enough to be born around, or on holidays. It usually tends to be a disadvantage for those people. For example, if you’re born around Christmas, you’re screwed for life. Ain’t nobody, no matter how related to you they are, no matter how many bullets you took for them, gonna shell out two presents for one person. Merry Birthday and Happy Christmas, now get the hell out of here!

Some people have wacky birthdays. I have a friend who was born on February 29^th, so even though he’s a grown ass man with a family, and a career and probably a mortgage and a receding hairline*, he doesn’t turn ten years old until 2020.

And even though it’s not actually a holiday, more like a cosmic event you can set your watch to, we all know that Mark Twain was born in 1835, just a couple of weeks after Hailey’s Comet flew through the heavens. The comet gave Twain the powers of SUPER RACISM!, in that not only did he not get in trouble for throwing the N-Word around like so many dollar bills at Good Guys Nite Club, but the more times he used racial slurs in his work, the more his books became American classics and were forcibly shoved into the eyeballs and evolving brains of United States youth.

Then Twain died in 1910, the next time Hailey’s Comet gave us a quick stop-by. Although after that whole racism thing, that seems a lot less interesting.

Also, you’ve got people like me whose birthdays coincide with holidays, though perhaps not very well-known holidays in these great states of ours.

Depending on your religious proclivities, or geographical location, or race, or if you prefer smooth peanut butter over crunchy, I was born on All Souls’ Day, or Dia de Muertos, or Dia de los Muertos, if you’re not into the whole brevity thing. In other words, the Day of the Dead.

First off, lemme give a quick shout out to my fellow Deadites. We have the best birthday you could ever want. It’s tits! The only thing that sucks is that growing up, all my birthday parties tended to be two days prior to my birthday and involved a lot of trick-or-treating. I guess two birds with one stone or some shit for my lazy parents.  

The Day of the Dead, is actually a third of three-day observance, especially in certain Christian denominations, (such as Catholicism,) especially in the western parts of the world. Halloween, All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day usher in the season of Allhallowstide. And while the name may sound ominous or macabre, it’s actually a celebration of the life of the departed.

In ancient American history, the Aztecs used to hold celebrations at the beginning of summer to the goddess Mictecacihuatl, (and if you can say that five times fast, I’ll give you my first-born son.) Her name translates to Lady of the Dead, which is odd, because I thought that was my ex-girlfriend’s nickname in bed. Mictec’s was the queen of the underworld and her job was to look over the bones of the dead, usher in the dead to the underworld (probably with coupons for the jaguar buffet) and kinda just be there for all the festivals in her honor. It was a pretty good gig.

These festivals were mostly observed in southern Mexico until the 16 century, when those wacky Christians came on over and tried to explain to the indigenous people in the New World how they were praying to their gods incorrectly, and while they were at it, had the indigenous people considered praying to a different god altogether? This other god was white, therefore much better!

And in this fashion, the Latin American festivals honoring the life and times of their deceased friends and ancestors, got mixed up with eastern religious observances, which is why it was moved from the beginning of summer to the end of October.

By the rockin 20^th century, Dia de Muertos moved upward to encompass more of northern Mexico and eventually became a national holiday. During this period there are festivals, parades, makeshift altars, called ofrendas are built at the gravesites of ancestors. It’s the one time of year cemeteries are poppin off. People wear skull masks and vibrant clothes and often, James Bond comes through to kick a bunch of dudes out of a helicopter and blow shit up or whatever.

South and Central America and the traditions and beliefs contained therein, are not the only locations on this great big ball of stupidity we call Earth take place. Many Eastern disciplines, beliefs and ways of life involve ancestor worship. The idea of traveling to the burial sites of those who have come before us to make the world a better place for us, just as we strive to do for the next generation,** is both proper and expected in these cultures. Of course, much of that changed in the past century as the stifling grip of socialism has taken over many Eastern Asian countries and their observances, such as ancestor worship have all but been stamped out under the guise of it being a superstition And therefore not allowed.

But in the end, you don’t really need a specific day of the year, or religious belief to remember the ones who have passed. Pick up a photo album, google your own family name (weirdo), do a 23 and Me, or hang out with Doc Brown for a bit. Those are all acceptable ways to remember our forefathers and mothers. Or, if you’re hanging with Doc Brown, it’s a good way to get that Oedipus Complex off of your chest once and for all!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I may not be dead, but I got some celebrating to do.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME SUCKAS!

*Only guessing here Tom, nothing personal!

**Unless you’re Trump, in which case your motto is: “Get the Money and Let God Sort the Rest Out.”