After the cheerfulness of Halloween, the day after always seems even more somber than it should. Where I'm coming from it's called All Saints Day, and it's a holiday to remember relatives and friends who passed away. People dress their finest and go to the cemetery to light the candles on the graves of their loved ones. At night the area around cemetery flickers with thousands tiny multi colored candle-flames. As a kid I hated being dragged around the graves by the grownups, where I had to talk really softly, almost in whispers, where I couldn't chase other kids nor play hide and seek although the place seemed made for it. Then, many years later I'd go for a drive in the evening on this day and stop at a spot with a clear view of the cemetery and soak in the shimmering of the candles like thousands of dying stars fallen on the ground.
Canadians don't observe All Saints day. Many years ago Meg and I went looking for a catholic cemetery with candles and found none in this great city of Toronto. Here, the dead were left to die a second death in the memory of the living. Over the graveyards the night had fallen thick and impenetrable. There is nothing else to do but light a couple of candles and put them on the window at home. Usually, a prayer is sent to those the candles burn for, but I never learned how to pray and don't believe I can reach someone beyond the grave. Still, my thoughts go to grandma, wishing that I could believe in sending her my love years after she's gone.It wasn't all dead talk today. New York City held it's annual marathon, one of the greatest running festivals in the world. I scored an interview with a man who finished the marathon and agreed to talk about it for my podcast. It's so exciting getting feedback from listeners and interviewing some of them. This little hobby of mine is gaining popularity.
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