YEAR AFTER YEAR, OUR ALTAR GREW

It was October in the mid-’90s in San Diego when I walked into a novelty shop in Hillcrest called Babette Schwartz. It sold unique greeting cards and gifts and instantly became one of my favorite stores. I noticed a series of small dioramas near the Halloween decorations — colorful little wooden boxes with miniature figures inside them, each depicting a different scene. There was a group of men drinking in a bar, another with members ofa mariachi group playing their instruments and another with a wedding party. Instead of people, they were all skeletons inside the tiny settings.

This was the art community’s way of bringing Día de los Muertos to the mainstream. But in Latin America, it was nothing new. Día de los Muertos or Day of the Dead is celebrated on Nov. 1 and 2, the same days many Catholics celebrate All Souls’ Day.

When I spent Nov. 1 in Tijuana at the city’s cemetery on Día de los Muertos, I witnessed what the holiday meant to those who truly celebrate it. There was a partylike atmosphere. Dozens of balloon and flower vendors were busy tending to customers outside the gate. Inside, families gathered at gravestones cleaning and decorating them with love and care. Mariachis were belting out popular ballads, and people were picnicking with their deceased loved ones alongside their graves.

In 2004, my then-boyfriend Luis, from the Mexican state of Oaxaca, taught me to make an altar of my own. This was new to me, because my family never celebrated the holiday.

I watched him as he carefully created a beautiful arc made from palm leaves and branches. He wrapped it with beautiful bright orange marigolds. The scent of the flowers, he told me, brings the spirits of the dead back

DENIS POROY From left to right, Priscilla Cordova, Yaretzi Gonzalez, 4, Delilah Gonzalez, 7, and Rosa C de Baca, work on a Sherman Heights Community Center altar.