Day of the Dead

“Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten the,” George Eliot

Dia de Muertos, or the Day of the Dead, is a Mexican celebration of the faithful departed, a take-off on the Catholic All Souls Day, which follows the Evening of All Hallows (Halloween) and All Saints Day. Believed by Mexican nationalists to have been descended from ancient Aztec practices, it is a day of remembrance, with families designing altars and shrines to departed family members, preparing traditional food, writing calaveras or short, anecdotal poems about the deceased, and taking flowers and other items to the gravesites of loved ones.  For many years, IU Northwest’s Modern Languages Department put together an elaborate exhibit that included photos of faculty we had lost.  I looked forward each year to seeing images of my good friends Bill May and Rhiman Rotz.

 

The Irish trace Halloween to the pre-Christian, Celtic celebration of Samhain, a two-day festival celebrating the end of harvest season and the beginning of the “dark” months. According to tradition, Druid priests would sacrifice cattle and ignite an immense wheel whose sparks would set off a bonfire from which villagers would light their hearths.  I just learned about Samhain from former student Chris Daly, who offered up this holiday wish for friends and loved ones: “May you all reap the rewards of the seeds harvested over the past year! Be appreciative of such rewards! My reward was the voice mail left for me and the subsequent phone call with my daughter and grandbaby! I could not be more grateful that I am included in their lives! Soak in all that you have, my friends. Honor those whom have sowed the seeds and sacrificed so that we can flourish! For this is the day when they are closest to us. Merry meet, Merry part, and Merry meet again!”

Daly's granddaughter Aaliyah

Halloween, one of Toni’s favorite holidays, produces elaborate yard decorations more diverse than any other. In addition to her ghostly display, two young neighbors in our condo court had decorated their front yard with an assortment of skeletons, tombstones, spiders, and pumpkins.  Toni always makes a big pot of chili and, weather permitting, sets up a table outside and invites neighbors to partake.  Normally, we get from 50 to 100 trick-or-treaters.  This year, due to the pandemic, the neighbors stayed inside, either with lights out or, in two cases, with a container of treats on the front porch. It was a brisk but pleasant evening, so Toni and I spent the two hours (5:30-7:30) sitting near the garage entrance with a table of treats ten feet in front of us and emanating from a miniature boom box eerie music or tales (some narrated, I swear, by Chicago storyteller and oral historian Studs Terkel).  Sadly, we only had a couple dozen visitors, mostly preschoolers accompanied by parents. The influx of older kids that I kept predicting would arrive never materialized. As 7:30 neared, Toni kept telling new arrivals to take more and more of the candy treats.

 

Son Dave (in Cardinal cap) spent Halloween at East Chicago Central organizing an event at nearby McShane Park dubbed “Nightmare on McShane Street.”  Students wore costumes and face paint, along with masks, to appear as zombies, werewolves, and other creatures of the dead.  It was a great success, although Dave later learned that one of the volunteers subsequently tested positive for the coronavirus, and he’s been self-quarantining until he himself gets back test results.  

 

What a friggin’ year.  And, of course, the whole country is on edge, as new cases daily approach 100,000 and POTUS cavalierly holds super-spreader rallies, ridicules health experts and those in the audience wearing masks, including, unbelievably, reactionary Fox News commentator Laura Ingraham, mocking her for being “politically correct.”  Worse, he has threatened not to abide by election results if he loses.

Dennis Trelinksi (above) and Harold Beckwith

Over the weekend actor Sean Connery (the first James Bond) died, and the NWI Times caried obits for many more people, it seemed, than normal, including 68-year-old Dennis J. Trelinkski, who was active at St. Thomas More Church as a Memorial Day Mass Eucharistic Minister and at their annual carnival.  Trelinski donated his “mortal body” to IU’s anatomical education program.  Gary Special Education teacher Harold Beckworth, a Roosevelt and IU grad, owner of Sir Harold’s Liquors, and member of St. Timothy Church, “made his earthly transition” (as the obit stated), with the “Homegoing Celebration” over the weekend officiated by Pastor Rameen Jackson.

The IU Northwest family is particularly saddened by the passing of Antoinette Wallace (above), the wife of Diversity, Equity, and Multicultural Affairs director James Wallace.  Here is the obit

    Antoinette Wallace (nee Wilkins) age 58, of Merrillville, Indiana, passed away peacefully at her home, on Sunday, October 25, 2020. She was surrounded and cared for by her husband and mother. Antoinette was born on February 1, 1962, in Chicago, Illinois to Josephine Wilkins and Kenneth Stanfield. Antoinette was a proud graduate of Julian High School also in Chicago and attended Eastern Illinois University majoring in fashion design. Her passion and brilliance for clothing design was well known to all who knew her as she could often be seen adorned in garments of her own creation. While there she joined the Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Incorporated where she made many lasting friendships. 
    After college, she worked for the U.S. Post Office for twenty-plus years and joined the Isis Chapter #40 of the Order of the Eastern Stars. She met and married James W. Wallace, Jr. on May 15, 2010. After retiring from work she spent her final years providing a comforting home for her husband and mother. She was a wonderful cook and her baked creations, especially her rum cake, were simply delicious. Antoinette enjoyed travelling and home improvement shows much to the irritation of her husband who was often dragooned into a variety of projects. She had an abundance of love for her family and friends who will miss her dearly.