Day of the dead

Yesterday was Halloween.  Today is All Saints' Day, or Dia de los Muertos if you prefer.  Wikipedia tells me that people celebrate their dead ancestors, visit grave sites, and the rest.  OK, my family hasn't traditionally done that because it's not my national or cultural heritage ... but hey, I'm open to the suggestion.  Why not?

"Why not" is actually pretty simple: I know next to nothing about my ancestors any earlier than my own grandparents (all of whom are, yes, now dead), and so far as I know we don't have any family grave sites.  Anywhere.  I think my grandparents were all cremated and I don't know who has the ashes.  If anybody.  We've just never paid a lot of attention to things like that.

Once upon a time, I guess that would have been kind of strange; but my sense is now it may be fairly normal ... at any rate among the suburban American middle classes.  I mean, ... I remember my grandparents.  They all lived until I was an adult, or nearly.  (The first one to die, died when I was a freshman in college.)  I've heard stories about their parents, or some of them -- probably not enough to pass on to my own kids, but bits and bobs.  But I don't know where any of them is buried.  As I say, I think my own grandparents were all cremated; as for their parents, I'm pretty sure they would be all out-of-state if anywhere.  None of my grandparents was born here.

Does this matter?  I suppose it depends on your point of view.  Wife always found my level of deracinement baffling.  How could I know who I am if I don't know where I came from?  I tried to explain that such questions didn't bother me much, but she could never get it.  On the other hand, Wife is hardly a good advertisement for living the other way, in the shadow of your ancestors.  Part of the reason she can't bring herself to part with all the old furniture and other junk she has carried around for so many years is that it all came from her ancestors and so she feels she is morally obliged to hang onto it.  And she is still tormented by things her mother said to her way back when, still living out insane scripts her mother wrote for her ... or her grandmother ... or somebody.  Maybe those scripts go back to Eve, for all I can tell.  If you ever want proof that men can still be hounded by the Furies, take a look at Wife and her extended family: some curses seem to last on and on, unto the tenth generation.

So am I missing out on something important?  I don't know.  Maybe it would be good if I did.  I don't even know how to wind up this post, really.  It's just something that I've realized lately, and that I've been thinking about.