The more I learn about other cultures and customs, the more I think, Wow! I wish White people had that! Whether it’s Black aunties who’ll give you the side-eye if you’re not acting straight or random family gatherings like our Hispanic next-door neighbors have, we European-descended Americans don’t have anything like that. It’s about community, being connected to something bigger, stronger, and more timeless than what any individual one of us can be.
Not only is it about community, but it’s about keeping our heritage strong. We see this in the ofrenda. An ofrenda is a traditional Mexican altar to honor the ancestors, seen particularly around Dia des Muertos (Day of the Dead). Pictures of the ancestors are placed on it, and the family shares stories of each one. As Dia des Muertos arrives, they place food offerings on the altar.
That’s such a neat custom, isn’t it? In this way, Mexicans stay connected to their ancestors and their family histories.
I was reflecting on this over the weekend. My younger daughter turned fifteen last week, and since her birthday landed right in the middle of the week, we did the big birthday celebration all weekend long. It started with a breakfast of her choosing–biscuits with sausage gravy (homemade, of course). Last year I found this biscuit recipe that makes delicious, flaky biscuits, and every time I make them, I think, Man, Grandpa would’ve LOVED these! And it hit me. Just as the favorite foods of the deceased are part of the Dia des Muertos custom, we also have our own food customs.
There’s that coconut cake that’s baked and served every year at Christmas because “Santa” loved it. There’s that gelatin salad that is made the same way Mimi (what Peter called his grandma) made it and is on the table for Christmas dinner. There’s the tradition of experimenting with vegetable sides at Thanksgiving because that aunt would do that. And there’s the thought of, Man, Grandpa would’ve LOVED these biscuits! The favorite foods of our loved ones keep them in our memories.
We also have the picture displays. Maybe we don’t put up an ofrenda, but we have family picture walls. In my parents’ home in the upstairs hallway hang pictures of family members past and present, and Mom tells who each of them is and something about them. In my own home, we have family pictures hanging on the stairwell, and Peter and I have told the girls stories about them. We keep their memories alive if they’ve died, and those who are still alive stay close to our hearts in the sharing of our memories.
Maybe family picture walls and those cherished recipes–or those recipes that make us think of beloved departed relatives–are our gringo ofrendas. May our cherished family members live in our memories and hearts as we share their stories down through the generations.
