Been a while since last I wrote. Hope everyone is happy and content.
I wanted to say, “thank you again!” for reading, supporting, commenting, and sharing my posts! I love being able to offer helpful information and information that could benefit another’s life.
I have been doing the grandmother thing and keeping up with two of my three grandkids, whom I adore. Although I adore them, they keep you busy. They want and need all kinds of things at their age. They are 4 and 3. I have another one who is 1 and he is the same. They are such a refreshing addition to my family.
I really enjoy finding cool things to post and hope you enjoy them as well. I am hoping that my poems can touch you and add something to your life as well. I write purely from my heart and experiences. It sometimes is hard to convey just exactly the right words for my thought and feelings. Personally my feelings go all over the place and in writing, I am able to capture a few of them and share.
So remember you are worthy to be loved, respected, cherished, and happy!!!! And I shall see you on this side of the rainbow!
We’ve all heard about the Day of the Dead or seen the classic sugar skull paintings—but what does this celebration really represent?
By Logan Ward
Here’s one thing we know: Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is not a Mexican version of Halloween. Though related, the two annual events differ greatly in traditions and tone. Whereas Halloween is a dark night of terror and mischief, Day of the Dead festivities unfold over two days in an explosion of color and life-affirming joy. Sure, the theme is death, but the point is to demonstrate love and respect for deceased family members. In towns and cities throughout Mexico, revelers don funky makeup and costumes, hold parades and parties, sing and dance, and make offerings to lost loved ones.
The rituals are rife with symbolic meaning. The more you understand about this feast for the senses, the more you will appreciate it. Here are 10 essential things you should know about Mexico’s most colorful annual event. [See more stunning photos from Day of the Dead celebrations.]
Thanks to efforts by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, or UNESCO, the term “cultural heritage” is not limited to monuments and collections of objects. It also includes living expressions of culture—traditions—passed down from generation to generation. In 2008, UNESCO recognized the importance of Día de los Muertos by adding the holiday to its list of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Today Mexicans from all religious and ethnic backgrounds celebrate Día de los Muertos, but at its core, the holiday is a reaffirmation of indigenous life.
There are endless variations of the Catrina sold in many forms during the holiday—and throughout the year in Mexico. Right:
Participants walk down a mural-painted street during Dia de los Muertos.Photograph by Tino Soriano, National Geographic (Left)
Papel picado, or pierced papers, blow in the wind in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. You can find papel picado around Mexico throughout the year, but especially around Day of the Dead. Right:
A Mexican woman sits at at a gravesite covered in marigolds and other flowers… Read MorePhotograph by Raul Touzon (Left) and Photograph by Jan Sochor, Alamy (Right)
History
Day of the Dead originated several thousand years ago with the Aztec, Toltec, and other Nahua people, who considered mourning the dead disrespectful. For these pre-Hispanic cultures, death was a natural phase in life’s long continuum. The dead were still members of the community, kept alive in memory and spirit—and during Día de los Muertos, they temporarily returned to Earth. Today’s Día de los Muertos celebration is a mash-up of pre-Hispanic religious rites and Christian feasts. It takes place on November 1 and 2—All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day on the Catholic calendar—around the time of the fall maize harvest.
Altars
The centerpiece of the celebration is an altar, or ofrenda, built in private homes and cemeteries. These aren’t altars for worshipping; rather, they’re meant to welcome spirits back to the realm of the living. As such, they’re loaded with offerings—water to quench thirst after the long journey, food, family photos, and a candle for each dead relative. If one of the spirits is a child, you might find small toys on the altar. Marigolds are the main flowers used to decorate the altar. Scattered from altar to gravesite, marigold petals guide wandering souls back to their place of rest. The smoke from copal incense, made from tree resin, transmits praise and prayers and purifies the area around the altar.
Literary Calaveras
Calavera means “skull.” But during the late 18th and early 19th centuries, calavera was used to describe short, humorous poems, which were often sarcastic tombstone epitaphs published in newspapers that poked fun at the living. These literary calaveras eventually became a popular part of Día de los Muertos celebrations. Today the practice is alive and well. You’ll find these clever, biting poems in print, read aloud, and broadcast on television and radio programs.
The Calavera Catrina
In the early 20th century, Mexican political cartoonist and lithographer José Guadalupe Posada created an etching to accompany a literary calavera. Posada dressed his personification of death in fancy French garb and called it Calavera Garbancera, intending it as social commentary on Mexican society’s emulation of European sophistication. “Todos somos calaveras,” a quote commonly attributed to Posada, means “we are all skeletons.” Underneath all our manmade trappings, we are all the same.
In 1947 artist Diego Rivera featured Posada’s stylized skeleton in his masterpiece mural “Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Park.” Posada’s skeletal bust was dressed in a large feminine hat, and Rivera made his female and named her Catrina, slang for “the rich.” Today, the calavera Catrina, or elegant skull, is the Day of the Dead’s most ubiquitous symbol.
Food of the Dead
You work up a mighty hunger and thirst traveling from the spirit world back to the realm of the living. At least that’s the traditional belief in Mexico. Some families place their dead loved one’s favorite meal on the altar. Other common offerings:
Pan de muerto, or bread of the dead, is a typical sweet bread (pan dulce), often featuring anise seeds and decorated with bones and skulls made from dough. The bones might be arranged in a circle, as in the circle of life. Tiny dough teardrops symbolize sorrow.
Sugar skulls are part of a sugar art tradition brought by 17th-century Italian missionaries. Pressed in molds and decorated with crystalline colors, they come in all sizes and levels of complexity.
Drinks, including pulque, a sweet fermented beverage made from the agave sap; atole, a thin warm porridge made from corn flour, with unrefined cane sugar, cinnamon, and vanilla added; and hot chocolate.
Marigolds and family photos decorate a Day of the Dead altar in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. Right:
A woman adds finishing touches on her Catrina makeup ahead of the Catrinas… Read MorePhotograph by Corbis Documentary/Getty Images (Left) and Photograph by Alejandro Ayala Xinhua, eyevine/Redux (Right)
Costumes
Day of the Dead is an extremely social holiday that spills into streets and public squares at all hours of the day and night. Dressing up as skeletons is part of the fun. People of all ages have their faces artfully painted to resemble skulls, and, mimicking the calavera Catrina, they don suits and fancy dresses. Many revelers wear shells or other noisemakers to amp up the excitement—and also possibly to rouse the dead and keep them close during the fun.
Papel Picado
You’ve probably seen this beautiful Mexican paper craft plenty of times in stateside Mexican restaurants. The literal translation, pierced paper, perfectly describes how it’s made. Artisans stack colored tissue paper in dozens of layers, then perforate the layers with hammer and chisel points. Papel picado isn’t used exclusively during Day of the Dead, but it plays an important role in the holiday. Draped around altars and in the streets, the art represents the wind and the fragility of life.
Dancers in traditional costumes perform in front of the Santo Domingo church in Oaxaca, Mexico.Photograph by Craig Lovell, Eagle Visions Photography/Alamy (Left) and Photograph by Richard Ellis, Alamy (Right)
Day of the Dead Today
Thanks to recognition by UNESCO and the global sharing of information, Día de los Muertos is more popular than ever—in Mexico and, increasingly, abroad. For more than a dozen years, the New York-based nonprofit cultural organization Mano a Mano: Mexican Culture Without Borders has staged the city’s largest Day of the Dead celebration. But the most authentic celebrations take place in Mexico. If you find yourself in Mexico City the weekend before Day of the Dead this year, make sure to stop by the grand parade where you can join in on live music, bike rides and other activities in celebration throughout the city.
Take Your Pick
Countless communities in Mexico celebrate Day of the Dead, but styles and customs differ by region, depending on the region’s predominant pre-Hispanic culture. Here are a few places that stand out for their colorful and moving celebrations:
Pátzcuaro
One of the most moving Day of the Dead celebrations takes place each year in Pátzcuaro, a municipality in the state of Michoacán about 225 miles west of Mexico City. Indigenous people from the countryside converge on the shores of Pátzcuaro Lake, where they pile into canoes, a single candle burning in each bow, and paddle over to a tiny island called Janitzio for an all-night vigil in an indigenous cemetery.
Mixquic
In this Mexico City suburb, bells from the historic Augustinian convent toll and community members bearing candles and flowers process to the local cemetery, where they clean and decorate the graves of their loved ones.
A Catrina and Catrin pose before an ofrenda, an altar set for deceased loved ones. Ofrendas display portraits, crosses, candles, flowers, incense, and water, a refreshment for the spirits who have made the long trip home from the hereafter. … Read MorePhotograph by Austin Beahm, National Geographic Your Shot
Cempasúchil, or marigolds, blanket a cemetery in Oaxaca, Mexico. These “flowers of the dead” originate in Mexico and are essential to Día de los Muertos. Aztecs used marigolds to cure hiccups, to heal those who had been struck by lightning, and to protect travelers who were crossing rivers. … Read MorePhotograph by willem kuijpers, National Geographic Your Shot
Artist José Guadalupe Posada’s original Catrina, named “Calavera Garbancera,” was painted to depict Mexican natives who were adopting European aristocratic fashion such as… Read MorePhotograph by Daniel Kudish, National Geographic Your Shot
On Gede, the Haitian Day of the Dead, voodoo believers paint their faces and wear purple and black to dress like spirits. Spicy rum is poured across gravestones, bones are arranged throughout the cemetery, and voodoos gather on tombs to call upon Baron Samedi, the Gede master of the dead. … Read MorePhotograph by Ricardo Arduengo, National Geographic Your Shot
The forever queen of El Día is Catrina, an elegant female skeleton first etched by José Guadalupe Posada. This rose-crowned, Kahlo-esque Catrina was photographed during Hollywood Forever Cemetery’s Día de los Muertos, which honored Posada’s art in 2017. … Read MorePhotograph by Melissa Cormican, National Geographic Your Shot
During Día de los Muertos in Mexico City, children dress up as skeletons and participate in parades. On November 1, festival events specifically honor deceased children and on November 2 deceased adults are honored—each day a reminder that life is precious and fleeting. … Read MorePhotograph by Alejandro Pérez, National Geographic Your Shot
In the town of Sumpango, Guatemala, Día de los Muertos activities include a giant kite festival. The enormous kites, some over 60 feet tall, are constructed from bamboo, agave ropes, and cloth. They illustrate both modern and Biblical themes. … Read MorePhotograph by Camilo Sarti, National Geographic Your Shot
Nearly the entire population of San Juan Chamula, Mexico, is indigenous, and their heritage is reflected in the town’s cemeteries. Tzotzil is the predominate language, and graves… Read MorePhotograph by Rodrigo Pardo, National Geographic Your Shot
In San Francisco, an integral part of Día de los Muertos is the festival of altars—a tradition kept alcohol-free out of respect. Many altars, or ofrendas, incorporate favorite treats of the deceased, in hopes that their spirits will visit and consume the food’s essence. … Read MorePhotograph by steve shpall, National Geographic Your Shot
Día de los Muertos often celebrates and preserves ancient indigenous culture. During a celebration in California, this woman’s feathered costume is reminiscent of plumy Xochiquetzal, a “womb and tomb” Aztec fertility goddess who is often honored with marigolds on Day of the Dead. … Read MorePhotograph by Melissa Cormican, National Geographic Your Shot
A child dressed as a skeleton charro, or cowboy, hollers between rows of giant agave plants in Oaxaca, Mexico. Further north in Michoacán, mezcal made from agave is buried underground for nine months in a “mezcal cemetery” and unearthed only for Día de los Muertos. … Read MorePhotograph by Eva Lepiz, National Geographic Your Shot
Candlelight graveyard vigils, like this one in Oaxaca, are common during Día de los Muertos. While there are some solitary moments of remembrance, vigils are traditionally lively and… Read MorePhotograph by Mariana Yañez, National Geographic Your Shot
Los Angeles’s Hollywood Forever Cemetery hosts the largest Día de los Muertos celebration outside of Mexico. Here, and in Mexico, colorful flower and banner decorations are crafted from thin paper or fresh flowers in order to symbolize the fragility of life. … Read MorePhotograph by Dotan Saguy, National Geographic Your Shot
On Día de los Muertos in Terlingua, Texas, locals convene at the Trading Company for face-painting and music, then travel to the cemetery to honor deceased old-time miners. Butterflies… Read MorePhotograph by Michael Anglin, National Geographic Your Shot
San Andres Mixquic is known for its extensive Day of the Dead festivities complete with candlelit vigils, colorful street performances, mariachi bands, warm pozole stew, skull-shaped bread,cotton candy, and fried grasshoppers. … Read MorePhotograph by Mauricio Challu, National Geographic Your Shot
Women in San Andres, Mexico, cook albóndigas, or meatballs, which are considered a comfort food and commonly found on ofrendas during Día de los Muertos. They are prepared with chopped mint and served in brothy soup or smoky tomato chipotlesauce. … Read MorePhotograph by Pauline Stevens, National Geographic Your Shot
Pan de muerto, the “bread of the dead,” is a soft, sweet bread with hints of anise and orange. The round loaves are often decorated with dough that resemble bones and teardrops, and… Read MorePhotograph by Cintia Soto, National Geographic Your Shot
Sumpango’s Barriletes Gigantes kite festival is set against the backdrop of Volcán de Fuego, an active Guatemalan volcano. Día de los Muertos, held the same day as the kite festival, will be particularly poignant this year, as locals honor those lost in a tragic eruption during 2018. … Read MorePhotograph by Gloria Gonzalez, National Geographic Your Shot
Tuxtepec
This small city in the northeastern part of Oaxaca state is best known for its sawdust rugs. For days, locals painstakingly arrange colored sawdust, flower petals, rice, pine needles, and other organic materials in elaborate, ruglike patterns on city streets. Traditionally made for important processions, Tuxtepec’s sawdust rugs are judged in a contest held during Día de los Muertos.
Aguascalientes
Located roughly 140 miles north of Guadalajara, Aguascalientes—birthplace of engraver José Guadalupe Posada—stretches its Day of the Dead celebrations to nearly a week during its Festival de Calaveras (Festival of Skulls). The festival culminates in a grand parade of skulls along Avenida Madero.
Day of the Dead is coming up on Sunday and Monday. We set up our alter last weekend and are beginning to decorate it with candles, incense, and pictures of loved ones who have passed. Today I will place a little jar of salt on the alter to represent the earth and to cleanse the spirit. The final piece will be the colorful addition of large paper flowers.
In Mexico, enormous fresh marigolds in red, orange, and yellow are used to decorate the graves and alters but paper flowers are also popular and are often strung together to make elaborate garlands which are draped overhead and along the edges of the gravestones.
I am not, not, not a crafter so believe me when I tell you they are very simple to make. All you need is one package of colorful tissue paper and some pipe cleaners. 15 sheets of tissue paper and 15 pipe cleaners should make about 15 flowers.
Take one sheet of tissue paper and cut it in half, then cut that piece in half two more times until you have several sheets that are about 8-inches long x 4-inches wide. This doesn’t matter too much—the bigger the sheets, the larger the flowers. Stack 8 pieces of cut tissue paper together (you can use all the same color or multiple colors).
Starting on the short end make a 1/2-inch thick fold.
Flip the tissue paper over so the folded side is down and then take the folded piece up and fold it again so now the fold is on the top, like an accordion. I wonder how many times I can use the word fold in a sentence, hmmmm.
Keep working your way up, folding back and forth until all the tissue paper is folded.
Bend the pipe cleaner around the middle of the stack and twist to secure. This will be your stem.
Cut each edge, either in a triangular shape or rounded.
Then fan out the paper.
Now pull one layer of tissue paper at a time towards the middle, carefully peeling the pieces of paper apart to create a puffy flower.
Continue with the remaining pieces of tissue paper to make as many flowers as you like. You can even make gigantic ones to hang from the ceiling using full sheets of tissue paper.
For those of you celebrating Día de los Muertos, I hope your hearts are full of celebration this weekend. Cherish these days; share family stories, eat sweet yeasty bread, and leave a flower or two for those who can no longer walk with us on this earth, but who are waiting to show us the glorious world on the other side.
Stay in the game and learn how to listen to your body and avoid injury with these tips.
Overuse injuries can be the bane of physically active people, from elite athletes to weekend warriors. Excessive, repeated stress on tendons, bones and joints over weeks or months can lead to painful knees, shin splints, tennis elbow and other overuse injuries. Most of these problems stem from the “terrible toos”: trying to do too much, too hard, too soon. Not getting enough rest and using poor technique or equipment can also make you vulnerable.
You can prevent overuse injuries by following some common-sense guidelines and listening to your body.
Common overuse injuries
Unlike the sudden pain of a torn ligament or sprained ankle, overuse injuries develop slowly and show up more subtly. At first you might feel minor pain or tenderness in the affected area just after you exercise. Eventually the pain becomes chronic and may keep you from participating in your sport or everyday activities.
Common overuse injuries include:
Tennis elbow (lateral epicondylitis) — Pain and weakness at the outside of the elbow
Golfer’s elbow (medial epicondylitis) — Pain and weakness at the inside of the elbow
Swimmer’s shoulder (rotator-cuff tendinitis) — Pain with overhead activity, problems sleeping on the shoulder, weakness of the shoulder
Runner’s knee (patellofemoral pain syndrome) — Pain around or underneath the kneecap, made worse with running, jumping or cycling, going up or down stairs, and sitting with knees bent
Shin splints (medial tibial stress syndrome) — Leg pain associated with running
Achilles tendinitis — Ankle pain associated with running, dancing or jumping
Plantar fasciitis — Heel or foot pain that’s often worse with your first steps of the day
Stress fractures — Pain in the foot, lower leg, hip or other area that’s made worse with weight-bearing activity
Limits and common sense
To avoid overuse injuries without sacrificing your commitment to fitness, follow these guidelines:
Increase your workouts gradually. Observe the 10 percent rule — don’t increase your workout time or distance by more than 10 percent each week. If you’re currently running 10 miles a week, add one mile or less a week to your total.
Warm up, cool down and stretch. Warm up for five minutes before your activity by exercising at a low intensity, then do some slow stretches that you hold for about 30 seconds. After exercise, cool down for five minutes, then stretch again.
Rest when needed. Fatigue may increase your chance of injury, so allow time for your body to recover and heal. Include rest days and easy days in your schedule.
Cross-train with other activities. Pursue a variety of exercises to give your joints and muscles a break. If your main focus is an aerobic exercise such as running, incorporate strength training into your routine — and vice versa.
Learn proper technique. Take lessons or work with a coach or trainer to learn the correct techniques — especially if you’re learning a new sport or using a new piece of equipment.
Get the right equipment. Choose the appropriate shoes for your activity, and replace them when they’re worn out. Consider using orthotics or a heel cushion if you experience foot pain. Running shoes should be well cushioned.
Pay attention to evenly working your muscles Strengthen muscles on both sides of your body to avoid imbalances.
Above all, listen to your body. Don’t ignore pain — it signals that you may be heading for injury. Remember, it’s better to take a day or two off than to find yourself laid up for several weeks waiting for an injury to heal.
If you had seen little Jo standing at the street corner in the rain, you would hardly have admired him. It was apparently an ordinary autumn rainstorm, but the water which fell upon Jo (who was hardly old enough to be either just or unjust, and so perhaps did not come under the law of impartial distribution) appeared to have some property peculiar to itself: one would have said it was dark and adhesive — sticky. But that could hardly be so, even in Blackburg, where things certainly did occur that were a good deal out of the common.
For example, ten or twelve years before, a shower of small frogs had fallen, as is credibly attested by a contemporaneous chronicle, the record concluding with a somewhat obscure statement to the effect that the chronicler considered it good growing-weather for Frenchmen.
Some years later Blackburg had a fall of crimson snow; it is cold in Blackburg when winter is on, and the snows are frequent and deep. There can be no doubt of it — the snow in this instance was of the colour of blood and melted into water of the same hue, if water it was, not blood. The phenomenon had attracted wide attention, and science had as many explanations as there were scientists who knew nothing about it. But the men of Blackburg — men who for many years had lived right there where the red snow fell, and might be supposed to know a good deal about the matter — shook their heads and said something would come of it.
And something did, for the next summer was made memorable by the prevalence of a mysterious disease — epidemic, endemic, or the Lord knows what, though the physicians didn’t — which carried away a full half of the population. Most of the other half carried themselves away and were slow to return, but finally came back, and were now increasing and multiplying as before, but Blackburg had not since been altogether the same.
Of quite another kind, though equally ‘out of the common,’ was the incident of Hetty Parlow’s ghost. Hetty Parlow’s maiden name had been Brownon, and in Blackburg that meant more than one would think.
The Brownons had from time immemorial — from the very earliest of the old colonial days — been the leading family of the town. It was the richest and it was the best, and Blackburg would have shed the last drop of its plebeian blood in defence of the Brownon fair fame. As few of the family’s members had ever been known to live permanently away from Blackburg, although most of them were educated elsewhere and nearly all had travelled, there was quite a number of them. The men held most of the public offices, and the women were foremost in all good works. Of these latter, Hetty was most beloved by reason of the sweetness of her disposition, the purity of her character and her singular personal beauty. She married in Boston a young scapegrace named Parlow, and like a good Brownon brought him to Blackburg forthwith and made a man and a town councillor of him. They had a child which they named Joseph and dearly loved, as was then the fashion among parents in all that region. Then they died of the mysterious disorder already mentioned, and at the age of one whole year Joseph set up as an orphan.
Unfortunately for Joseph the disease which had cut off his parents did not stop at that; it went on and extirpated nearly the whole Brownon contingent and its allies by marriage; and those who fled did not return. The tradition was broken, the Brownon estates passed into alien hands, and the only Brownons remaining in that place were underground in Oak Hill Cemetery, where, indeed, was a colony of them powerful enough to resist the encroachment of surrounding tribes and hold the best part of the grounds. But about the ghost:
One night, about three years after the death of Hetty Parlow, a number of the young people of Blackburg were passing Oak Hill Cemetery in a wagon — if you have been there you will remember that the road to Greenton runs alongside it on the south. They had been attending a May Day festival at Greenton; and that serves to fix the date. Altogether there may have been a dozen, and a jolly party they were, considering the legacy of gloom left by the town’s recent sombre experiences. As they passed the cemetery the man driving suddenly reined in his team with an exclamation of surprise. It was sufficiently surprising, no doubt, for just ahead, and almost at the roadside, though inside the cemetery, stood the ghost of Hetty Parlow. There could be no doubt of it, for she had been personally known to every youth and maiden in the party. That established the thing’s identity; its character as ghost was signified by all the customary signs — the shroud, the long, undone hair, the ‘far-away look’ — everything. This disquieting apparition was stretching out its arms toward the west, as if in supplication for the evening star, which, certainly, was an alluring object, though obviously out of reach. As they all sat silent (so the story goes) every member of that party of merrymakers — they had merrymade on coffee and lemonade only — distinctly heard that ghost call the name ‘Joey, Joey!’ A moment later nothing was there. Of course one does not have to believe all that.
Now, at that moment, as was afterward ascertained, Joey was wandering about in the sagebrush on the opposite side of the continent, near Winnemucca, in the State of Nevada. He had been taken to that town by some good persons distantly related to his dead father, and by them adopted and tenderly cared for. But on that evening the poor child had strayed from home and was lost in the desert.
His after history is involved in obscurity and has gaps which conjecture alone can fill. It is known that he was found by a family of Piute Indians, who kept the little wretch with them for a time and then sold him — actually sold him for money to a woman on one of the east-bound trains, at a station a long way from Winnemucca. The woman professed to have made all manner of inquiries, but all in vain: so, being childless and a widow, she adopted him herself. At this point of his career Jo seemed to be getting a long way from the condition of orphanage; the interposition of a multitude of parents between himself and that woeful state promised him a long immunity from its disadvantages.
Mrs. Darnell, his newest mother, lived in Cleveland, Ohio. But her adopted son did not long remain with her. He was seen one afternoon by a policeman, new to that beat, deliberately toddling away from her house, and being questioned answered that he was ‘a doin’ home.’ He must have travelled by rail, somehow, for three days later he was in the town of Whiteville, which, as you know, is a long way from Blackburg. His clothing was in pretty fair condition, but he was sinfully dirty. Unable to give any account of himself he was arrested as a vagrant and sentenced to imprisonment in the Infants’ Sheltering Home — where he was washed.
Jo ran away from the Infants’ Sheltering Home at Whiteville — just took to the woods one day, and the Home knew him no more for ever.
We find him next, or rather get back to him, standing forlorn in the cold autumn rain at a suburban street corner in Blackburg; and it seems right to explain now that the raindrops falling upon him there were really not dark and gummy; they only failed to make his face and hands less so. Jo was indeed fearfully and wonderfully besmirched, as by the hand of an artist. And the forlorn little tramp had no shoes; his feet were bare, red, and swollen, and when he walked he limped with both legs. As to clothing — ah, you would hardly have had the skill to name any single garment that he wore, or say by what magic he kept it upon him. That he was cold all over and all through did not admit of a doubt; he knew it himself. Anyone would have been cold there that evening; but, for that reason, no one else was there. How Jo came to be there himself, he could not for the flickering little life of him have told, even if gifted with a vocabulary exceeding a hundred words. From the way he stared about him one could have seen that he had not the faintest notion of where (nor why) he was.
Yet he was not altogether a fool in his day and generation; being cold and hungry, and still able to walk a little by bending his knees very much indeed and putting his feet down toes first, he decided to enter one of the houses which flanked the street at long intervals and looked so bright and warm. But when he attempted to act upon that very sensible decision a burly dog came browsing out and disputed his right. Inexpressibly frightened, and believing, no doubt (with some reason, too), that brutes without meant brutality within, he hobbled away from all the houses, and with grey, wet fields to right of him and grey, wet fields to left of him — with the rain half blinding him and the night coming in mist and darkness, held his way along the road that leads to Greenton. That is to say, the road leads those to Greenton who succeed in passing the Oak Hill Cemetery. A considerable number every year do not.
Jo did not.
They found him there the next morning, very wet, very cold, but no longer hungry. He had apparently entered the cemetery gate — hoping, perhaps, that it led to a house where there was no dog — and gone blundering about in the darkness, falling over many a grave, no doubt, until he had tired of it all and given up. The little body lay upon one side, with one soiled cheek upon one soiled hand, the other hand tucked away among the rags to make it warm, the other cheek washed clean and white at last, as for a kiss from one of God’s great angels. It was observed — though nothing was thought of it at the time, the body being as yet unidentified — that the little fellow was lying upon the grave of Hetty Parlow. The grave, however, had not opened to receive him. That is a circumstance which, without actual irreverence, one may wish had been ordered otherwise.
A Baby Tramp was featured as The Short Story of the Day on Mon, Jan 19, 2015
Mws R Writings 